What is your legacy?
Posted by Carol Howard Merritt on 06 Jul 2010 at 01:39 am | Tagged as: spirituality, young adults
When I was in Cajun Louisiana, serving as a pastor, I learned about traiteurs. When people would get sick, they would go to the doctor and to the traiteur, just to make sure all of their bases were covered. Many of my neighbors, friends, and members of my congregation would say, “I was suffering from arthritis. I went to the doctor and I went to the traiteur, and now I’m healed. You can decide which one made me better.” And as they said it, I always got the feeling that I was voting for the doctor, and they were voting for the traiteur. The traiteurs were healers who lived in the swamps. I tried to research them, but there was very little written on them. They have a few pages in Cajun history books, and now there’s a wikipedia article on them. I never went to one, but I was pretty fascinated by them, so I was always asking people for stories.
They seemed to have combined some of the religious voodoo practices that are common in New Orleans with the liturgies of the Catholic Church. Some of the herbal treatments reminded me of the medicine men in Uganda. And then there were some interesting practices that seemed more magical. Like if you came to be healed from a wart, they would rub a dime over the wart, then they would tell you that when you spent the dime, then the wart would be transferred from your hand to the person you gave the dime to.
Their hands often radiated heat. When they were healing a dislocated shoulder, the patient could feel the burning coming from the palms of the traiteur’s hand. For the most part, traiteurs were men and women of prayer. They had a book of prayers that they would whisper, hardly audible for the person who came for healing. People didn’t pay them with money very often. They paid with food–chicken, shrimp, fish, or vegetables from the their gardens.
And one of the most interesting things that I learned about the traiteurs is they had an intricate system of passing down their miraculous knowledge. According to wikipedia, if the traiteur was a man, he would teach a woman. If the healer was a woman, she would pass down her knowledge to a man. One by one, the healer would teach the prayers to the apprentice, and when the apprentice would learn the prayer completely, then the teacher would lose power over that particular prayer. The prayer became the student’s, and no longer the teacher’s. Through many years, they would go through this ritual, until all of the prayers belonged to the apprentice. For almost 250 years, since the Acadians settled Louisiana, this ancient tradition has been kept alive through this process.
The magic tied to this process reminds me of the idea of legacies and inheritance in our Scriptures. There were two offices in the Old Testament, two kinds of religious jobs. One was that of a priest—and the priest would maintain the temple or the synagogue. He would keep the offerings burning on time and made sure that the rituals were followed correctly.
Then there was a prophet, a person who often caused chaos. When everyone was fat and happy, the prophets were there, reminding them that God’s punishment was just around the corner. When people were lamenting and in anguish, prophets were there, tearing their clothes, sitting in ashes, telling people about the mercy, grace and love of God.
In the Old Testament, there was a system of identifying and training prophets, usually within a family. They would look for the next generation of leadership, and they would anoint their predecessor. When a prophet found another prophet, he or she (there were women prophets. We know about Deborah, the judge and prophet, so there were probably more) would take a horn of oil, and pour it over the head of the predecessor to mark them. Often when a holy person died, he or she handed down their “mantle.” Or there was a blessing that was passed on. There was a sense that something miraculous was exchanged between the two people. This is what happened with the exchange of power between Elijah and Elisha. Elijah and Elisha are incredibly fascinating characters. Elijah was a prophet, and Elisha was his apprentice. They’re kind of funny, kind of magical, and kind of scary.
In many ways I was lucky to start my ministry in South Louisiana, because this idea of apprenticeship was not only alive in the Cajun culture, but also in the African American culture. And so as I began my first years as a minister, several Methodist pastors took me under their wing. I was a 26-year-old feisty feminist, and these men who had been pastors for fifty years. And yet they took time with me, once a week, for an entire afternoon, to study Scriptures and give me advice. I was, at first, infuriated by what was happening. I thought it was pure patriarchy! I was always respectful to the men, but every week after we met, I told my husband that I wasn’t going back. I felt like just because I was a young woman, they were going to sit around and tell me what to do all day long. As if I had nothing to contribute to the conversation. But I kept going back.
Then I really started needing their help, and they were there, teaching me how to navigate the difficult terrain of a small church. Telling me when to take sides in a congregational conflict, and when to act as the mediator. Pretty soon, I became less angry about the injustices that I had to endure as a woman, and I began to empathize with my colleagues who served faithfully in communities where segregation and abuse was still very much alive. And, I’m not sure how to explain it, but they put recordings in my head that I’ve played back for a dozen years as I’ve served as a pastor. They established a foundation for me that I walk on every day. And I’m incredibly thankful that they took the time to drink thick black coffee, and teach me how to be a pastor.
I don’t know what I would have done if I started out here, in D.C. It is a sink or swim place, in our profession. There is rarely the expectation or vision among colleagues that we mentor each other. And, our schedules are so packed that it takes weeks to get a lunch appointment. It seems that it is not just in this particular religious community, but it can be all over.
We have lost the sense that something magical happens when we share our knowledge with someone who is starting out. We have lost this sense that we have a mantle, a legacy that we can pass on. Sometimes we do not know how to look at the next generation, not as a threat or competition, but as a hope that they will achieve greater things than we will. That they will make the world a better place.
Sometimes I worry that we have lost the art of teaching the next generation in our country.
I am not sure why, but maybe it’s because we used to be an agrarian based culture, where the hard labor had to be shared—especially with those who were younger and stronger. Therefore, knowledge needed to be passed down as well, or we could not eat. There were family farms and family businesses, and so it was important for each generation to entrust their knowledge to their sons. Then, as the industrial revolution replaced the agrarian culture, and the tech and service industry replaced that, we entered into a time of competition. Instead of sharing the work so that all might be fed, we entered an economy that realized that keeping secrets was much more important than sharing them. Professions were not passed down from one generation to the next in the same way. People began to go to college to become trained. And sometimes, the academic pursuit of a profession was removed from the practical implementation. It seems that apprenticeships were replaced by internships.
D.C. is run with interns. We’ve had interns at our church. It seems that internship are highly competitive to get into. But they are too often about young, college graduates who have way too much student loan debt, are yet they expected to work for free without health insurance, paying rent in expensive cities, and going into more debt. Often it sets up a system of privilege so that people who have parents who can afford the internships, can do them. Many times internships are about doing the grunt work, and not learning the important skills and knowledge that the organization has to offer.
Don’t get me wrong. A good internship is a wonderful thing. Yet, for many college students in our country, they are expected to work for free for at least one year in order to get a decent job. Imagine if you had to live in DC, when you’re just starting out, without any income, for at least one year. (I’m sure many of you don’t have to tax your imagination too much, because you’ve already been through an internship, or you’re in one now.) This system is putting students into debt, and it’s eating away their parent’s retirement savings.
Now, I know that our city would probably shut down if there were no interns, but in this difficult economy, could it be time to start thinking about what we are doing to people in these situations? They’re in no place to complain, because they typically need to get a job out of it. But in this time when recent graduates face rising school debt, stagnant salaries, high rents, and lack of jobs, should we be expecting that they work without pay for so long? Often, it seems like an undue burden for those who desperately need a lighter load. We may need to ask some questions. If an intern is, in essence, contributing to the politician, office, church, or NGO a year’s salary, are we giving them more than just a foot in the door? Are we training them, mentoring them, and spending time with them? Are we setting up a system where people who do not have families with means are getting that much farther behind than those with means?
It’s not just in D.C. When I was teaching at a conference for campus ministers this week, we started talking about internships, many of the pastors agreed that this has become very damaging to young adults in our country. One campus minister even compared it to slavery.
Too often, we have lost the sense of building up new leaders, of leaving a legacy to the next generation. And I don’t just mean money, but I mean investing the time, the wisdom, and the secrets. I mean taking that metaphorical bull’s horn of oil, and seeking out that particular person. The one who will become greater than you are. And when you look back at your career, you can point to that person and know that a double portion of your blessing is still living in them.
When you said you were preaching against internships, my imagination couldn’t wrap my brain around it. But this is wonderful. You are an amazing storyteller.
I have seen this in my life…I have tried for years to leave the job I currently have, only to discover that one of my bosses is the best mentor I’ve ever had. She is eager for me to try the next step, but while I’m there, she is stretching me.
What a richness to have those men mentor you. I can see you both fighting and soaking it in.
And what you’ve said about D.C.–is one of the reasons why I stay in Pittsburgh, for now.
xo,
SL
It seems to me that a female pastor being mentored by more experienced male pastors was a victory for feminism, not something to be infuriated about.
It wasn’t long ago that this sort of opportunity wouldn’t even have been extended.
The very fact of this happening was a sign the patriarchy was willingly giving way to inclusiveness.
The question many of us WASP males have is whether we’ll ever be inclusive enough for everyone else or if we’ll be viewed with bitterness and contempt forevermore despite our best efforts to understand and adjust to what is being asked of us.
And, what is being asked of us is not an easy thing. It’s made a lot more difficult when we’ve tried very hard to adjust and we’re still being told we’ve come up short of what’s expected of us.
We’re good at reaching fixed, well defined goals but not very appreciative of fuzzy ones or ones that keep changing.
We especially do not like preferences because this invariably translates into discrimination against us, simply because of our race and gender.
Didn’t this whole thing start out as a push for non-discrimination?
Just sayin.
Sarah Louise,
Thanks. And I love that you have that sort of relationship with your boss.
Murray,
Yes, it was a very good thing for me and for feminism for them to take that time. I was just remembering the resentment that I had… I knew that I didn’t know everything. I was pretty humble… but still. I thought I knew a lot more than I did! I think many of us go through that.
I don’t know what to say about being a WASP man. I’m not trying to throw anyone off the mountain… I’m just asking them to scoot over to make a bit of room there.
But you tied being infuriated to feminism and hostility to the patriarchy and not youthful hubris, Carol.
And what does ’scooting over’ mean? Preferential treatment? Again, didn’t this all start out to be about non-discrimination?
Scooting over means that I can live into the fullness of God’s calling in my life. That we can live into the truth that “There is no Jew or Greek, male or female, slave or free” in Jesus Christ.
If we all have a unique calling, which we obviously do, no one should have to ’scoot over’ for another. Just for starters, I can’t be you and you can’t be me. Theoretically then, both of us, being loaded with different software one from the other, should be aiming for very different things and following our own distinct pathways to get there.
Carol, I love this. I love reading about your early years in South Louisiana, learning the culture and flow of the community. I agree with you that the passing on culture and “magic” comes through mentors/old guys/gals taking the time to introduce us to their world.
I received very little mentoring when I was first ordained. I looked and asked for help but didn’t get it. I learned to observe closely and eavesdrop instead.
Now that I am an older pastor, I look for opportunities to pass on what I know and to nurture younger or less experienced pastors. On my bad days, I think the world has changed so much in 30 years that no one wants my support.
I like your idea of changing how internships are arranged. Slave labor isn’t good for anyone and we need to respect the new people in our care.
Many thanks for this article and all of your work.
I like a lot of what you say; I received a lot of mentoring on my internship; I had the privilege of living in a community house so even though I lived in Denver, housing was not a hardship (the pay was pretty low, though.) There were a team of women and men who were eager to mentor me, not just my supervisor, so it was great. There was a couple who were co-pastors, a couple of women who were solo pastors.
St. Casserole, I do think that the world has changed a lot, but human nature hasn’t, so most of the human relations aspects of pastoring should be passed on! just figuring out which battles to fight and which not to, when to hold your line and when to delegate, how to mentor lay leaders …
Thanks for this. One thought — like many small rural churches — our Sunday School is nearly non-functional. Parents and children just don’t seem to have the time anymore. I’ve been thinking a lot about mentoring as perhaps a better model for CE. We have fantastic deacons — perhaps they could mentor a young person and show them how to pray, send cards, and visit the elderly. We have a nice choir — again, the same. Instead of segregating children into classrooms, lets incorporate them into the life of the church and teach them the skills they need to do ministry.
@Murray — I’m assuming that “scooting over” means make space on the pew, not getting out of your chair. Although, of course, as Christians, we should rather give our chair to a new person and sit on the floor.
As we begin preparing for an internship program in the ministry where I serve, we were told. “Decide. Will this be free labor or a chance to transfer the knowledge and wisdom that you have learned to another generation.”
In truth, it’s a bit of both. However, the paramount thing MUST be a transfer of knowledge and wisdom.
You weren’t unique in your fury about having to learn from someone who is older and wiser. Every young person struggles with that reality. The military is full of stories about the young lieutenent and the seasoned sergeant. I wish there were more stories about seasoned pastors and their young students.
Thanks for sharing.