In my first post about pastoral care as what often seems to be the missing ingredient in how we relate to the world, I noted Jesus’ self-description of His attitude toward the world around Him, which was about to crucify Him: “How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling.” (Matthew 23:37-39; Luke 13:24, 25)
What might that have looked like?
Right after the call of Matthew – also known as Levi, and better known as a tax collector – the Gospel written by Matthew tells us “it happened that as Jesus was reclining at the dinner table in the house, behold, many tax officials and sinners showed up and were reclining at the dinner table with Jesus and His disciples.” (Matthew 9:10) Whenever the religious rulers of the day saw that, they customarily were saying something like, “What in the world is happening right in front of us?” (paraphrase, Matthew 9:11) Nothing like religious people setting Jesus up for another zinger, for He responds with, “You folks need some learning. God prefers mercy over sacrifice – my mission is to sinners, not the so-called righteous.” (paraphrase, Matthew 9:13)
If that story is a fair description of what Jesus had in mind when He used the “mother hen gathering” analogy, then it speaks volumes to us religious folks about not only the nature of pastoral care, but its importance.
For example, were we to survey many believers, we would likely see pastoral care described as providing meals. I don’t think that is a bad thing. The example above from Matthew 9 is certainly a meal that Jesus shared with tax officials and sinners, two terms that in His world could easily mean the same thing. As in, “I’m not perfect, but I’m not a sinner like those turncoat tax officials are.” Little wonder the religious leaders would be disturbed.
That same survey, however, would likely indicate that our efforts at pastoral care are directed more toward people like us: “We’re not perfect, but we aren’t sinners like __________” (you fill in the blank).
When my wife was critically ill, our family was on the receiving end of lots of deeply appreciated pastoral care. Much of that time was during the pandemic’s worst days, so much of that care was in the form of delivered meals, gift cards, notes of hope and care, flowers, and the like. Every time I see certain people, I instantly think of their great care for us.
My friend, Mark Taylor, is currently the primary caregiver for his wife of many years. He blogs weekly about that experience. He often mentions what I would call pastoral care that he and his wife receive weekly, making this unchosen journey he and his wife are on more bearable. That is such good testimony that the church takes seriously its understanding of fellowship as described in Acts 2:42-4:30 – Luke’s description of what I call “the earliest, early church.”
But honestly, what my family and I experienced for over two and a half years – and still do, to some extent – and what my friend and his family are experiencing right now, is what is spiritually natural for the church to do. Leave it to Jesus to throw a huge monkey wrench in the cogs that churn our spiritual thinking! “For if you love the ones loving you, and you may, what reward do you have? The tax officials do the same, right?” (Matthew 5:43-48)
Jesus clearly doesn’t say, “Quit taking care of the ones loving you.” But we would need to be blind if we don’t notice his significant level of dissatisfaction if that is all we do. Read the whole paragraph, a part of the Sermon on the Mount, and it gets very convicting
My wife and I took lots and lots of meals to the ones loving us. We apparently modeled that in a way that taught both of our adult children to do the same. I could do that daily and find myself very satisfied with my life.
But Jesus might look at my record and say, “What about the tax officials?” Honestly, I don’t know any tax officials. I will say I’m not fond of the IRS, but I don’t think I say that with any personal animosity toward specific people.
But what if there were a same-sex couple down the street, not engaged in the congregation I attend, where one partner was critically ill? Or a few streets over, a family where the husband squanders his income on alcohol, drugs, and gambling, and the wife just needs a bit of a break from the everyday toll of pretty much being a single mother? What would a “mother hen gathering her children” do about that?
Or a family of color happened to move in next door, and all of a sudden I am confident that the value of my home just went down? (Not an uncommon attitude in much of my part of the world.) Or what if I hear through the rumor mill that they are Muslims? Now what?
Tragically, we are living in a time where even among Christians, what kind of voter you are can easily impact how we show pastoral care to the “tax officials” who might live next door.
When we read the description of Jesus in Matthew 9:9-14, though, we should think, “How can I be Jesus to the world around me?” I can only conclude that the person to whom I should not show mercy has yet to be born – and never will be.
At the end of this great chapter from Matthew (9:35-38), we read about what a day in the life of Jesus looked like. He went about everywhere, teaching, proclaiming, and healing. I can’t do those three things exactly like Jesus did, but I can use them as models for what pastoral care should look like. In my head, He was involved in His world; He was aware of its needs; and He was willing to be a risk taker to the world around Him.
What He discovered was a desperate world – much like sheep without shepherds – harassed and helpless. He didn’t turn His eyes away and seek the safety of his “own kind of people” safely ensconced in the local synagogue. Rather, He urged us to pray . . . and to pray about God’s harvest.
When we do that, we might find that we are called to be a mother hen gathering God’s chicks by the practice of good pastoral care.
Wye Huxford 