RickGrimes

A Hot Mess: Seeing Myself in Father Gabriel

Posted on by PopCulturePreacher

“You play a bad priest so well,” I said to Seth Gilliam, the actor who plays Father Gabriel on AMC’s ‘The Walking Dead.’  “Father Gabriel is a hot mess! Good job!”

Mr. Gilliam smiled.  “Yes, he is.  He is a hot mess.”

Thank you, dear eight pound, six ounce baby Jesus that Mr. Gilliam *did* smile.  The last thing I want to do is offend this gifted actor.  I meant my comment as an absolute compliment. Mr. Gilliam’s  nuanced portrayal of the fumbling Father often elicits visceral reactions from me: I yell at the tv…a lot.  When we found out he hoarded all the canned goods, I bellowed, “Have you forgotten the story of the manna?!?” When Father Gabriel says to Rick, “The wine’s just wine until it’s blessed,” I grunted “Have you forgotten that in the Beginning God called it ALL good?” GAH!  As a clergy person, Father Gabriel drives me batty.

It’s when I turn off the tv and get back to real life that I realize why: Father Gabriel has forgotten who and Whose he is. He is a hot mess, and if I’m being honest here, this pretend pastor gets a rise out of me because I, too, have been a hot mess of a pastor more than once during my 12 year career.  We all have.

Clergy friends, can I get an “Amen”?

We’re just human, like everyone else, and Seth Gilliam’s Father Gabriel reminds me of that every time I watch.

When we first meet Father Gabriel, he’s up on a rock, all alone, isolated from everyone, surrounded by walkers snapping their jaws. To me, that big rock looked like the place in society where clergy are often placed: up on a pedestal. Ordained clergy are “set apart for special service,” but often times, being “set apart” gets misunderstood. Often, church folk, and non-church folk alike, want pastors to be strong and wise and have all the answers. We want pastors and priests to say all the right things, at all the right times, to kindly remind us we’re loved and beloved, while also speaking truth to power. We want them to care for the widow and the orphan, and be the vanguard of the marginalized, all while not offending any one. We want them to be like Jesus – the nice version of Jesus we’ve cherry-picked from scripture. We want pastors and priests to be perfect.

God forbid our pastors ever, actually, be human beings.

A couple of days ago, I ran into new congregants of mine out for lunch with friends. “Looks like you had a great birthday!” they said, commenting on my social media pics from Walker Stalker Chicago. “We loved seeing your pictures with all those people from the zombie show.” They turned to their friends and explained, “She loves ‘The Walking Dead.’”

One of the friends raised an eye brow, “I hope you’re stronger than Father Gabriel.”

I’ve only just met this person and already I’m up on that rock as clergy-walker-bait.

“To be fair,” I said, “I think we’d all be a hot mess in the zombie apocalypse, don’t you?” The truth is, whereas the zombie apocalypse hasn’t struck yet, we all (clergy and laity alike) have experienced our own personal apocalypses: betrayal by those intimate with us, death of loved ones, financial catastrophe, loss of work, feelings of insecurity, depression, frustrations with family and friends and children, health crises, addictions, grief, and other gut-wrenching tragedies all amidst the daily grind of life. And even though my colleague, the Rev. Elizabeth Dilley, likes to describe me as “the one who would win if there was such a thing as ‘Pastors Fight Club’” the truth is, I’m not always a badass. I’m not always stronger than Father Gabriel.  I’m not always confident or sure of myself, and I do not get it right all the time. Far from it.

I’m human and I’m a pastor and God knows those two things are hard to hold together.

After the birth of my eldest daughter I found myself isolated, with the jaws of postpartum depression (PPD) snapping at me left and right. I felt like Father Gabriel in his inaugural moment: up on a rock, all by myself, helpless, and terrified. As a clergy person watching that scene, remembering the personal apocalypse that was my PPD, when my whole world fell apart and I had to find a way to just survive somehow, I saw that rock he found himself on in a different way. It was like the pedestal we’re often put up on as clergy which I had internalized. I remember being so afraid of what people would think of me as a clergyperson when I realized I had PPD. “But I’m The Pastor. I’m not supposed to be the one who needs help. I’m supposed to be the one who helps other people.”  PPD threatened to consume me, but so did the unrealistic expectations with which clergy are so often saddled, which I had swallowed whole.

God forbid we allow ourselves as pastors to actually be human.

Thank God somebody showed up before I got consumed by it all. My friend Katie put her own newborn baby in the car, told her husband she’d be back (but I didn’t know when), then drove six hours north to be with me, and spent weeks with us during my leave of absence from church. Katie T., who has known me since I was 16 and is also a clergyperson, knows me without all the pretense – she’d never put me up on a pedestal, and yet, because she’s also a Pastor, she’s often found herself up there, too.  She, and a PPD therapist, helped me climb down from that precarious position.  That which threatened to consume me, both the depression and my own outlandish expectations, lost their bite.  I came down off the rock of isolation and remembered who and Whose I really am – Leah, beloved child of God, wife, lover, mother, daughter, friend, and soul-sister who struggles with health and wellness just like anyone. I am a pastor, an ally, an artist, a writer, member of the creative class, and yes, an avid fan of the Walking Dead.

I am a messy human being, with all the complicated characteristics that make us who we are.  Thank God.

Maybe Father Gabriel isn’t such a bad priest after all.  Maybe he’s just forgotten who he is – who doesn’t when their world falls apart – and I put him up there on a pedestal like so often happens to me.  So, Father Gabriel, and all you real pastors and priests out there, you can be a hot mess and still be a good clergy person – remember who and Whose you are: a human being whose set apart.  Remember that and you’ll find yourself again.

Blessings, y’all…

PopCulturePreacher

P.S. This post was also inspired by going to Clergy Boundary Training this week, and pastors, you know what that’s all about.  If you do find yourself up there on that rock with some nasty thing or another nipping at your heels, call a colleague.  Call your therapist.  Talk to your Spiritual Director.  Take an extra day off.  Take care of yourself.  As Parker Palmer says, “Self care is never a selfish act.”

A Pentecost Moment Among “The Walking Dead”

Posted on by PopCulturePreacher

While prepping for Pentecost, which pops up this Sunday in the church calendar, I looked up last year’s sermon and re-watched it on our Community UCC YouTube channel.

And, y’all, I forgot how much I LOVE THIS SERMON!

Know why? Because I talk about ‘The Walking Dead’ in it a lot.  A whole lot. And as you know from the Pop Culture Preacher’s short, little history here on the blog, I love, love, love this show. If you are a TWD fanatic, you will eat this up. If you aren’t a fan of the show, as many in my congregation weren’t at the time….I’ve won them over since…..don’t worry, you won’t be lost.

But I also love this sermon because I really tell it like it is: The world often feels like it is falling apart, and yet, here we are, trying to find our way through it together. It’s the only way — we have to do it together. That’s the way it works in the TWD world, and that’ll preach.

You can watch “A Pentecost Moment Among ‘The Walking Dead’” here.  Spoiler alert: if you are not up to Episode 12, season 5, get on it! Go catch up, then come on back.

Blessings, y’all….

Pop Culture Preacher

 

Lori’s Light

Posted on by PopCulturePreacher

{TWD Spoiler Alert}

A confession: I think about who should be shipping who on TWD because, y’all — for real, there is *not* enough sex in the zombie apocalypse. But, because I am the PopCulturePreacher, I also spend plenty of time wondering, “What was Maggie saying during the prayer in Alexandria’s garage chapel?” and “Why is Father Gabriel such a crappy priest?” and so on.  That’s why I’m launching this mini-series, “Faith Journeys: TWD Characters” here on the blog.

It’s fan-fiction for churchnerds.

Each installment will explore what I imagine to be the religious history of a TWD character based on my professional experience as a clergyperson and personal experience as a progressive Christian. You may have another take.  Do comment!  Let’s talk.  (Don’t be a troll. Jesus loves you, but if you are a jackass, I’ll ban you.)

Lori Grimes…complicated, conflicted Lori Grimes. Sarah Wayne Callies plays her with such conviction. Just watch her eyes when Rick confesses to killing Shane (S 2, Ep 16). Masterful.

Lots of clues pop up in Lori’s story line about her religious history. Here’s what we know: Rick, Lori, and Shane grew up together in 1970s/80s small town Georgia. According to Gallup, only 7% of Americans claimed no religious preference in 1978 (Gallup Poll: Religion). Odds are, Lori grew up in a religious household. Currently, residents of the Peach Tree State claim some brand of Baptist (hello, Jimmy Carter), followed by Methodists, followed by the ambiguous category of “other Christian,” followed by Roman Catholics.  So which might she be? Lori never struck me as Catholic. I grew up Protestant in a Catholic town. Catholicism is as much about religion as it is about culture. When the zombie apocalypse hits, even if you haven’t been a practicing Catholic for most of adulthood, the rote nature of the liturgy still lives in your bones; it would rise to the surface. We see none of that in Lori, nor do we see any Baptist leanings.

Odds are Lori grew up in a big Methodist church where, I imagine, her daddy was a deacon and her momma headed up mission projects for United Methodist Women because Lori comes across as the kind of person who grew up in a house where “being someone” in the community mattered. Participation mattered and so did appearance. Think about what she’s wearing to pick Carl up from school (S 2, Ep 2). Fancy! I just want to pull her aside and say, “Really, it’s ok to just wear yoga pants, Lori. Be lazy like the rest of us. Dial it down…” But I digress.

In this vein of keeping up appearances, I imagine she and Rick had a big church wedding and her daddy walked her down the aisle. Perhaps her colors, like another Georgia girl we know, were also “blush and bashful.” Lori would have been content to continue to go to church, following in her momma’s footsteps: to see and be seen on Sunday morning, and to serve, too. But, at Rick’s prompting, I do believe, they stopped going – we’ll explore that in the next post.  And so, they became “the kind of family that had pancakes on Sunday morning.”

Lori ceased participating in organized religion, but continued her private practice of faith. At the CDC, she sends Carl off to bed and tells him to say his prayers.  She sits with Carol as Carol prays for her lost little girl. I suspect Lori is praying, too. The world fell apart long before the dead started roaming the streets: her marriage was a mess, then her husband was shot in the line of duty. Rick’s dead, then he’s not dead. She’s with Shane, then she’s not with Shane.  Rick’s back, then he’s gone. They’re together, but they’re not really together.  Geez, I hope she’s praying.  Because even without the zombies, Lori’s life is one whiplash inducing disaster after another.

Remarkably, though, she leaves this world filled with light. Lori had every reason to rain verbal garbage down on Carl in her last soliloquy, but she imbues him with love. Perhaps that’s the greatest clue to the faith journey of Lori Grimes. We can see that her life has been built on hope, because in in end, that’s what she passes on.  She says, “…You are smart, and you are strong, and you are brave. And I love you.  You gotta do what’s right….It’s so easy to do the wrong thing…don’t let the world spoil you…” I love it — it’s like the line from the Gospel of John, “…you do not belong to the world…” and the line from Romans 12, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…” all rolled into one. Lori knows that life is beautiful and ugly, filled with moments that make your heart sing and moments that wreck your soul – she’s lived both. And yet, in the end, she lays her life down with conviction and courage, love and light, help and hope.