UnMute Yourself: Surfing the Synthesis of the Academic and Pastoral

Abstract

One of the things that drew me to the discipline of liturgical studies was the way in which scholars in the field modeled a deep commitment to pastoral practice and to understanding how rite and ritual plays out in everyday life. I was inspired by the way they formulated intelligent reflection and analysis with a mindfulness toward the spiritual welfare of actual people and communities of faith. Perhaps for these reasons, I have cringed to find that, in many denominational contexts, a tension still exists between the “academic” and the “pastoral,” with these terms often being pitted against each other in discussions surrounding job searches, pastoral practices, and styles of leadership. Sometimes the implication is conveyed that to be “academic” is somehow to be less concerned with pastoral facets of ministry and that those inclined toward the “pastoral” are more generous and attuned to the nuances of human experience. Or, in a reversal of hierarchies, the “pastoral” is conflated with a certain intellectual sloppiness, as if compassionate practice requires a suspension of critical analysis. Of course, I am oversimplifying a bit to make a point. But not as much as I wish I was. I have been thinking about this false dichotomy often as I have navigated a number of poignant, sometimes joyful and sometimes heartbreaking pastoral situations and rites. I’ve found that having theoretical grounding in the dynamics of how people engage ritual and symbol gives me a more patient and inquiring spirit. I am less inclined to see liturgical conflicts in congregational settings as contested sites of control and more as particularly saturated hermeneutical hot spots. Or, to speak more colloquially, the places where people fight for control over liturgical issues are places that matter for some reason. And discovering what is at stake for people is a pastoral map into their souls and spirits, provided we are willing to listen and observe. At its best, training in liturgy, sacrament, and worship informs and deepens pastoral care rather than being a boutique pursuit or an ephemeral exercise. I have found that phrases that once seemed intriguing but esoteric have offered robust theoretical frames to carry the unthinkable. One such phrase that comes to mind is Nathan Mitchell’s description of the “inexhaustible ‘excess’ that is always ‘pointed to’ or ‘hinted at’ by the symbol but never fully or finally disclosed.” I once sat with this for hours and analyzed it. It made much more sense to me recently when I officiated at a funeral for a young person whose life ended much too soon, when no words were adequate, and yet it was my job to find some. Every symbol seemed tasked with carrying the impossible weight of the grief of a community. This idea that symbols of hope and resurrection—a paschal candle, a pall, the flowers carefully and lovingly arranged by those who were bereft—could never fully disclose hope and love, but could indeed point to these in part, proved invaluable to me on a very practical, non-esoteric level.