I have finally witnessed it!
A few times a year, the District Superintendent meets with all the pastors in the UMC North Carolina Conference Durham District. I would guess this is approximately 80 pastors. I went with my new supervisor Grace. A room full of pastors is probably one of the weirdest rooms a human being can find themselves in, if only because pastors are continually the ones who are outnumbered in their own churches by the laity. Now I find myself vastly outnumbered by all of these people who are supposedly leading churches of their own. It was terrifying. I felt like Jane Goodall among the Gorillas:
Field Log Day 46: "It has taken me almost 5 weeks of building trust with one of the members of this elusive group, but finally I have built up enough normalcy to be allowed to observe a rare group interaction of these eccentric, somewhat awkward, creatures as they convene for their odd ritualistic meeting.
Immediately I note the male dominance of the group. It seems that being white, male, and slightly overweight gives one some kind of unspoken authority in the group--at least it seems this way from the way these particulars members of the clan are allowed to make extremely poor jokes and laugh out of turn without being punished by the leader of the group for their disruptions.
The leader of the group, a well-manicured silverback begins the ritual. It seems there is some kind of greeting ritual they call an "icebreaker." In this case, the members of the clan are told to gather in small groups with 3 or 4 people they have not met before and introduce themselves by saying which Bible character they most identify with, and which historic Methodist figure they most identify with. This seems an odd ritual for a group this old, most other species utilize icebreakers with groups of pimply-faced, awkward highschoolers--yet it seems effective: soon the awkward silence is broken by a comfortable laugher as one male pastor who looks like George Clooney and pastors a church in Durham (Bish Carder Peeps out there know who i am talking about) says he is most like Jezebel. This is greeted with, perhaps unwarranted for the level of the joke, outrageous laughter by the members of the clan. What a strange humor custom this group has developed, perhaps as a result of their total lack of connection with other social groups from their species. I personally find myself sucked right into the heart of one of these small groups. For a moment I panic, thinking this group will realize I do not belong here and turn on me. I pass the test on bible characters easily enough, recognizing that this is a mere formality and that few of these brave creatures really know the identity of the names being given. I sweat through stammering something about John Wesley hoping that they will not detect I know nothing of their odd tribal cult and its various historic leaders. The small group seems satisfied and returns to the ritual of clan, leaving me nervous but temporarily secure to observe as an insider among this strange group.
Not surprisingly, given my initial observations of the lack of fitness of many of this groups members, the silverback leader spends a considerable amount of time discussing the health of the clan. Apparently there is a conservation group working to protect the health of these historic and noble creatures called the Duke Endowment. They have launched the Clergy Health Initiative which costs $13 million dollars and attempts to train these majestic beasts in self-care, in order to prolong their lives in the wild. The silverback explains that the food choices of the clan must alter, an apple is different from a donut. I notice that more than a few of the plumper middle-age males appear confused by this pronouncement--some bristle, bordering on anger, as if their status in the clan has been threatened by these comments.
The meeting now turns to a long, protracted, monotonous ceremony of endurance. The silverback bellows and calls in an erratic and incomprehensible rolling howl. The members of the clan must compete to pretend to stay interested in the silverbacks boring and unending announcements to the group. I soon notice one of the oldest females of the group nodding off to sleep. This act is greeted with social shame in the group. I find my own patience pushed to the very brink. I calculate the odds of making a break for the door, but decide that even though these gentle creatures appear slothful, they may have hidden quickness that could stop my getaway and consign me to disastrous results once they realized I did not belong to the clan. I stay hunkered down, trying not to cry as discussions of Christmas Parties, Church meetings, and Sexual Ethics training sessions assault my senses. As if to mock my efforts, the silverback allows a previous leader of the clan, now a very old, frail creature to make an announcement. This member of the clan reads an announcement almost as if he is dying in between phrases: "The Durham District ........ will be .... trainign Lay Speakers........... What are Lay Speakers?...... Let me tell you..... Lay Speakers are....." I assume that the members of the clan know of some previous reputation for this creature that makes sense of their respectful silence.
Finally, the silverback brings the meeting to a close, and a feast ensues. The overweight males exhibit unprecendented speed and aggression as they jockey to be the first out the door into the fellowship hall where food has been prepared by what seem to be hunter/gatherer tribeswomen. I do not fully understand this arbitrary gender construction, but assume there must be some mythic cultural understanding among the clan which accounts for this unnecessary gender hierarchy. The beasts dig in to a meal of pasta, lettuce, and frozen fruit--a part of the new dietary choices of the clan. When I have finished my plate, I find an ideal moment and slip out a side exit door.
I will never forget this rare day, when I was invited into the clan and allowed to see what happens in the inner sanctum during these incredibly special group interactions. What strange, majestic creatures, and to see them interact together when they normally spend much of their lives roaming in isolation... what a special gift. I hope to continue to build trust with the clan members in the hope that I can learn more about what motivates them to live in such a difficult, confusing fashion.
I remain yours truly, explorer and anthropologist extraordinaire,
Matt J.
I was an anthropology minor in undergrad.
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