Charge to the Class of 2008

May 30, 2008 By Development

By Professor Scott Haldeman

On Saturday, May 17th, Scott Haldeman, Associate Professor of Worship, delivered the charge to the graduates at CTS’ commencement. These are his remarks.

As we heard earlier in the service, Paul writes to the church in Rome:

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God . . . . [for the time when] creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. (selected from Romans 8:18-29).

Suffering, bondage, decay—such are these days, such are the constraints on life on this side of the veil. And so we groan.
Certainly there has been much groaning around CTS this Spring. The faculty, the board, the staff—we have all been groaning. We are going through so many changes, constant transition—and so there are many misunderstandings and tensions; many difficult, costly and risky decisions taken, still more to face.

Oh, there has been groaning aplenty at CTS recently.

And, you, the students, especially those of you who graduate today—oh, we have heard you groaning:
How to get it all done? How to express your best thoughts?
How to earn that final, passing grade?
How to survive the oral examinations?
How to finish those final assignments?
Oh, we have heard you groaning! loudly and without ceasing!

But you are not groaning now. Now there are shouts of praise and thanksgiving. Now there is time for celebration. I celebrate with you. We, the faculty, commend and bless you . . . yet we also charge you. A charge to keep is our gift to you. For we look forward to news of your good works out in the world. We anticipate hearing how you have taken what we have offered you in our teaching and put such virtues into practice. We yearn for the abundant harvest of the fruit of your labors—as you nourish broken bodies to health and broken spirits towards wholeness, as you contribute to the increase of justice, mercy and peace in Woodlawn and Aurora, in Omaha and the Sudan, in Seoul and Baghdad, in Gary and Port-au-Prince.

So we charge you to shine brightly as lamps that have a small persistent flame to show others the way, to keep them from falling, to reveal divine grace. We charge you to speak with care and with power, to communicate extravagant mercy and transformative good news.

So, I am here to remind you that while well-deserved and honorable, the party will soon end and the service will begin, and, I trust, many of you will begin to groan again.

My charge to you is not to stop groaning—as if pretending this calling to which you are called requires that you appear happy all the time. To the contrary, those of us who have tasted of the first fruits groan for the feast, for the time when all will eat and be satisfied. We groan because hope is still unborn and requires the agony of labor to appear. We groan because hope will only flourish when it is nourished by the witness of ancestors and saints, the faithful and the fallen—those who know the difference between the way things are and the way things ought to be—and so they groan as they struggle on toward the day of promise when all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well.

My charge, as I say, is not to stop groaning, but instead to attend to the groaning—both your own and that of others.
My charge to you is to groan in alignment with the confident hope of the saints of God.

Now there are many things that may cause one to groan. Paul speaks of labor pains and the groaning that is provoked by the delay of the fulfillment of the promise that those who have tasted of the first fruits of God’s love must feel, as the pain of anticipation builds to the ecstatic. Do you know of what he speaks? Have you tasted God’s goodness so that a hunger builds in you for the feast where all will eat and be satisfied. Oh, let me hear you groan for what you know is coming but have yet to grasp.

Such is why Paul thinks we may groan—and not only us but all of creation. But I am thinking today of three other, related yet distinct causes of groaning: the groan of the hungry, the groans of those in deep pain and grief, and (yes, I am going to go there) the groans of those in rapturous embrace: as Sir Elton John has put it, when we are “rolling like thunder under the covers!” Does somebody here today know what I am talking about?

Now I must attend quite briefly to each of these groups of moaning, groaning folks to whom I charge you to listen.

First, hungry people groan. Those who are almost gone. Those who have no resources. Those who cannot afford corn or rice or flour because, among other reasons, we are making ethanol to power our cars. Bread For The World tells us that between March 2007 and March 2008 the price of corn has risen 31%, the price of rice 74% and the price of wheat 130%. A perfect storm of misguided energy policy, “rising demand for food in Asia, bad weather and market speculation” all contribute to this. There are 798 million people in the world who are malnourished. Another 100 million are now at risk to join them. “Food riots” (I think we should call them “Hunger riots”) are erupting throughout the developing world—severe enough to puncture the insulation of the US media most recently in Haiti and Somalia. There are so many groaning. We may not want to know such things, but we must open our ears and eyes to crises of our todays and of our tomorrows. So listen. Hear the people groaning. We who share bread to remember Jesus cannot rest until all can taste God’s goodness. We who share bread to anticipate the New Age of God’s Justice and Peace must groan for how far away we are from that day. Here in this room today, certainly in our churches, some are hungry. And those of us who are not hungry for food must become hungry for the day when all will be fed. Oh, let me hear you groan.

Will wealthy nations like our own continue to wage warfare in order to protect our “lifestyle” of ravenous consumption and comfort while others starve? Will the churches feed only souls and not starving bodies? Make the connections. Do the theological reflection. Create alternative practices. Live them. Teach them to others. That the hungry will be satisfied and their groaning bellies may quiet. And may we all groan for the day when no more children die for lack of bread.

There are of course many other kinds of hunger—for companionship, for hope, for meaningful work, for access to education, for peace. In relation to these hungers as well, we need you to make the connections, to do the theological reflection, to create alternative practices, to live them, to teach them to others—that such hungers too may be satisfied and those who groan may find rest.

You get the idea. We can proceed quickly now. Those who suffer pain or loss so deep that they lose access to language groan too. It is estimated that 10% of the US population suffers from chronic pain. As Elaine Scarry has written: “Physical pain does not simply resist language but actually destroys it, bringing about an immediate reversion to a state anterior to language, to the sounds and cries a human being makes before language is learned.” Those being tortured in Guantanamo Bay are reduced to groans. Those beaten by a so-called lover, who considers that, as the title of the play created by Dr. Terrell’s AIDS/Violence class put it: “You Belong to Me” and so I can treat you as I please—all they may be capable of is a groan. Desperation provoked by flood waters that do not stop rising as one is crushed against the ceiling gasping for breath and no one is coming to rescue you—and all you can do is groan. A “improvised explosive device” tears opens your skull and lodges shrapnel in your brain half-way around the world from those you love because simpleton in the White House thinks this is the way to stop acts of terrorism on US soil—and all you can now is groan. So, too, those who suffer deep loss. How many dead children do we need on the streets of Chicago? How many mothers who can only groan their grief? Every five minutes a child in Africa dies of HIV/AIDS. Rachel weeps for her children; she cannot be consoled.

Those in pain, those whose children and lovers and parents and friends who have been snatched away—too early, too painfully, too abruptly—those who suffer beyond words need someone to speak the words they no longer can speak. They need companions and visitors. They need healing touch and words of hope and simple presence when everything else has been done and there is nothing left to do but slip away. Oh, there are so many who because of pain and loss can only groan and we need you to make the connections, to do the theological reflection, to create alternative practices, to live them, to teach them to others—that those who suffer pain and loss may know compassion and companionship while they heal or as they enter the final rest of peace—and they need to groan no more.

And, finally, there are those groans of pleasure. Groans that stir and resound when Lovers embrace, when touch soothes one’s deep hunger for intimacy, when one experiences even briefly the satisfaction of true connection. As Audre Lorde once put it: when she experiences the depths of erotic pleasure, she gets in touch with “the deep and irreplaceable knowledge of [her] capacity for joy [and she] comes to demand from all of [her] life that it be lived within the knowledge that such satisfaction is possible.” [In this way] our erotic knowledge empowers us, becomes a lens through which we scrutinize all aspects of our existence.” (57). First fruits indeed—the embrace of one’s true love as a hint of the embrace of God and much empassioned groaning. Knowing that we cannot be satisfied with anything less, we work to build a world in which all are honored, in which no one doubts her self-worth, where our desires lead to connection, cooperation and mutual care—especially for those who were not meant to survive—which, of course, actually includes most of us.

The connection to ministry is a bit different here. It is not so much to follow the groaning and join in the pleasuring—be very careful of doing that. It is about not making your ministry into what used to be a way of describing Methodists—people who are very concerned that somebody somewhere might actually be enjoying themselves! Don’t use morality to so narrowly define faithful touch as to deny to many—or, even to deny to one—the possibility of a form of intimacy that satisfies them. We need more pleasure in this world, not less. We need to rehearse caring, joy-filled and joy-creating embrace. As Baby Suggs, holy, preaches: “Love your flesh—yonder they do not love it, they despise it—you got to love it. Love it. Love it.” Deep love of our own fragile flesh, such ways of practicing healing touch can sustain and nurture our struggles for justice—they are about justice—if not in areas on which our churches have tended to focus their ministries. Oh, can I hear somebody who has been touched moan their satisfaction?

So listen for the groaning—both those that arise as responses to the taste of the first fruits of the promises of wholeness and intimacy and the groans caused by hunger and pain and loss. Can you hear the groaning? Will you to make the connections, do the theological reflection, create alternative practices, live them, teach them to others—that those who groan may find rest. I hope you will; we hope you will; the world hopes that you will!

We have asked much of you: to keep stretching towards your full potential, into the very stature of Christ. Now you will have to ask much of yourselves—and identify others who will continue to ask much of you. Don’t stop learning, thinking, developing, transforming, becoming the leaders, scholars, activists, and pastors whom you are meant to be. Don’t stop listening for the groaning of those who hunger for bread and for justice. Where you hear groaning you will find both those who need you to join them in the struggle to wage peace, to foster justice, to make love and those who are already being redeemed and will share with you the promises of which they have tasted and that have awakened their deepest desires for love, community, and reconciliation. The groans of need, the groans of pain, and the groans of satisfaction may guide you in the path of righteousness, towards new life, and may fill you with hope and desire, and may lead you to join in the groan that is the song of a new world being born.

Blessings upon your journey—today and tomorrow and for all your days!

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