It’s an image you don’t often see — five living US presidents, sitting solemnly together, their spouses by their sides. Practically the only time this happens is at funerals; in this case, the funeral of former president Jimmy Carter.
Jimmy Carter is one president I really wish I’d had the pleasure of meeting. My friend, Shannon Beck, met him when she drove down to his modest Plains, Georgia church one Sunday to attend his Sunday School class. The topic of that day’s class was Advent. Though his teaching was articulate and honest, what touched my friend most was the worship service that followed, and the image of a humble Carter, listening with all his heart and soul to the small-town preacher’s words.
After the service, guests were allowed just one photo with the former president. The rules were meticulously enforced by the fierce church guard ladies. Shannon took her turn, then noticed that the photo was blurry. Defying the church guard ladies, she stood in line for a second photo. As the photo was taken, Shannon and Jimmy smiled knowingly at this illegal opportunity. Out of the corner of his smile, Carter whispered, “Come back soon!”
Jimmy Carter was a man defined by his outstanding character, as a plethora of recent eulogies have attested. Who can forget the images of a bruised and battered 95-year old Carter, having recently taken a fall, with hammer in hand, spending the last of his energies building houses for Habitat for Humanity?
At the other end of the character spectrum, famously, is our incoming president. As inauguration day draws near, the grimacing, shuddering, pacing, and blood pressure is escalating. Some, like Fuller Seminary’s former president Mark Labberton, are fortifying themselves with new regimens of personal and spiritual practice: more family time, more quiet, more stillness, less newspaper and media time, deep breathing, friends….
As a pastor, this presidential situation affects my work more than you might imagine. During the 2017-2021 presidential term, the pastoral care concern I dealt with most with my parishioners was not illness, not doubt, not suffering, not grief, and not relationship concerns. It was how to endure this president’s term.
As I listened to them, I sensed a heavy soul-injury. Their deepest-held spiritual and moral convictions were being publicly trampled almost daily, not by just anyone, but by their country’s top official. Furthermore, the majority of fellow Christians seemingly supported the offender-in-chief. How could they wrap their minds around this? How could they endure?
As I reflected with them then, and again now, there are many things that come to mind. Christians do not usually flourish in times of comfort and ease. Our resolve to follow the challenging Way of Jesus is often bolstered when we face severe challenges. Living with our deepest values constantly challenged reminds us to fight for them—to keep them front and center. Our church’s work to accompany and support migrants, for example, only becomes more crucial in such a time as this, our resolve firmer.
At the same time, there is something about living together in community that becomes sweeter and more compelling during a time like this. We really need each other as we embark on another four years of this particular soul-injury. We need to love each other, work with each other, and support each other. Christian community becomes essential to us. Singing together, finding joy together, jamming along with music together becomes a way of almost “thumbing our noses” at evil and refusing to let it consume us.
And there’s one more thing. It seems to me that one of the best cures for a soul injury is to intentionally acknowledge other people we come in contact with, and show kindness. This can be exceedingly simple and can be done every day: I find my visits to the neighborhood supermarket prime places for the kind word, the simple smile, the extended hand. We are in this life together for a time; being mindful of our shared need for human connection can be sustaining and life-giving.
Maybe that’s why Jimmy and Rosalind Carter spent so much of their time and energy swinging hammers with ordinary people. It sustained their souls.
