Golden Calf

The Reality of Exhaustion

It seems to me that churches all over – mine included – are struggling a little these days. We are tired. In our case, we’re in the process of finding a new building and living out of suitcases in the meantime, which is getting old. But, it’s not just us. Other churches are struggling for all their own reasons. Disengagement. Loss of staff. Loss of members. Loss of financial security.

I don’t want to pretend it isn’t happening. I also don’t want to exaggerate it. I’ve seen joy, witnessed authentic care, and have even heard reports of inspiration.

The story of the wandering Israelites keeps coming back for me. When my congregation started this process of selling and moving, I talked often of those 40 years in the desert. While they were wandering, the people were struggling. At some point, Moses had taken some time away and the restlessness got the better of them. The people went to Aaron and told them they had had enough. They didn’t want to wander, they weren’t sure this god they were following really had their backs, and they wanted a new way to do things. They were done. Aaron, who I’m sure was also pretty exhausted, told them to bring him their gold so he could make them a new god, which he did. He created a golden calf and the people decided to follow this god instead.

We can talk about the theology of this sometime, but at the moment, I’m fascinated by the very human experience of a people wandering. I mean, they gave up. They got that far, they escaped slavery, they found food, had the miracle of water, were alive and well and free, and then they gave up. They started saying “no”. Like Aaron, they were done.

I see this temptation in our churches, and I’m also seeing this pattern in our country. Last week, I was listening to a journalist interviewing Black voters. So many more of them are voting for Trump this year, or are at least considering it, dramatically shifting the numbers and demographics from 4 years ago. One man said he’d never voted for a Republican and actively supported Biden last time, but he was done with broken promises. The journalist was trying to get more information and at some point said, “Under Biden unemployment is at an all time low”, and the man replied, “Sure, I’ve got a job, but I haven’t gotten a raise in 10 years. It’s enough.”

I hear that same feeling of exhaustion. I’m hearing it about Biden’s age which seems to have become, at least for me, a mirror for American democracy. It’s getting old. Worn. Maybe losing its memory. Forgetting where we came from. Getting tired. And I think others might even see it as over. Time to move on to something else. Maybe we should try autocracy for a little while and see if things get better. Melt down our gold and see where that leads. Or, worse, I’m so tired, so overworked trying to just stay afloat, that I don’t have time to care. Again, we see the disengagement. I can’t. We can’t. It’s all too much.

At our core- both in the church and in the country – is a need for trust. A network of trust. It’s frayed, although far more in the world than in our churches, but, even in church, when people start to get grouchy, get critical, lose faith, disengage, we see trust breaking and broken.

Both out there and in here, though, we can’t move forward, we don’t survive, if we aren’t working together. I also know that we don’t work well together if we feel like we’re not being heard, or if saying “yes” means all the work is on us which leads to resentment and exhaustion. True in the world, true in the church.

I hear people saying, “I’m three paychecks away from being homeless”, or “I can’t have children if I can’t afford more than a studio apartment,” or, “My mother needs more care than I can give her but we can’t afford to get help,” or “Hundreds of thousands of people are living on the street and I feel breathless just thinking about how we’ll ever address that crisis,” or “The schools have no resources to address my child’s needs because they are overworked and underfunded,” “And why is my money going to help the Israeli government kill Palestinian children?” I can’t do it any more. Let’s see if a new god can take it from here, because we’re done.

These are the details of people’s lives and the list of problems only gets longer and the more it goes on, the angrier and more disengaged we all become. Everything just feels hard.

And then you come to church and there are fewer people and they want things from you, even if it’s just your attention, and it’s too much.

Over this next year, this sure-to-be-difficult-election-year, let’s try to remember a few things in response both the world and the church. We are Love. Change is uncomfortable and sometimes very sad. Some of what’s happening is frightening or disconcerting, but We Are Love. We are the embodiment of the Spirit of Love. We can make choices that increase Love. We can make choices that demonstrate trust. We can reach out to each other in tenderness and care, in gratitude and honesty, and we can find that we, too are better for it when we do. We can build into our system an expectation of softness, of comfort. Even if only for this next year, this year when the country will be in disarray, this year when our congregations will still be looking to find our footing, we can be intentional about seeing each other, responding to each other in gentleness. We can, for now, for today, for this week and month, for the time we each have left, we can see and know that putting Love at the Center means we are all, each the same, grounded and surrounded and the embodiment of that one great Love, the one that holds us all together, that breaths in and through us. Wandering, anxious, disengaged, critical, forgetful. We can let it go and reconnect with our Source, reconnect with each other, the very embodiment of Love. No golden calves needed.