What I Don't Miss (Part 2)

Part One of this series dealt with what I miss now that I am doing "secular" ministry after thirty years as a parish pastor.
Links to
Introduction
What I Miss: Part 1, part 2, part 3

This section is all about What I Don't Miss
Part 1
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"The price one pays for pursuing any profession or calling is an intimate knowledge of its ugly side."
--James Baldwin

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Underlying much of what I don’t miss about the church is the remnants of Christendom. Christendom is the Church existing in essence as a non-localized nation-state. It began with Constantine in the 4th Century when he realized that he could conquer the world if he accepted this relatively new religion as the “official” religion of the Roman Empire. It only went downhill from there into state religion. The church controlled the state which brought along a high degree of triumphalism that comes when you, the church, have Kings and Armies and lots of money at your beck and call. Your missionary efforts become identical with the imperialistic efforts of the state. (Look at Spain in the New World, for one of many examples.)

Now, another disclaimer. I’m not one of those who think that the “true” church died with Constantine’s announcement. It is simply a part of the picture and a major watershed in Christian history. What I do think is the case is that when power was offered, the church saw it as a way of expanding the Kingdom of God. This was obviously God’s way to opening new ways and new doors. There were, I am sure, many other motives, but I tend to believe that the most basic was the desire to expand the Kingdom. The fact that the power was eventually misused and abused is simply a fact of original sin. Paul’s letters show that the 1st Century Church wasn’t a whole lot saintlier- just smaller and with no broad power-base to further corrupt them.

But this isn’t about corruption in the church. It is about the equating of being a Christian with being a good citizen of a Christian nation. You had a choice of course. But not much of one. When the church is in charge, you just fall into place. You become a Christian because that’s what people do. You go to church because that’s what good citizens do. It was an integral part of the culture, something I think Jesus would have at once understood and challenged just as he did with the established Jewish institutional religion of his day.

With that came a sense of Church entitlement that the Reformation didn’t break because the Reformation churches were just as much state churches as the Catholic Church had been. They may have lost some of the power, but they still had enough to maintain their position. They didn’t like new and different religious understandings coming along and threatening their supremacy. Look at England and the Anglican-Methodist fights or Germany with the Lutheran-Moravian misunderstandings and you will see how it could play out. Even in many of the American colonies there was an “official” church that you better pay attention to.

That leads to a real sense of entitlement on the part of the church and a high expectation that everyone understands and accepts your world-view. As I moved west over the past thirty years I witnessed over and over the extension of stores opening on Sundays. Starting in the Lehigh Valley in the mid-70s, into south central Pennsylvania in the early 80s, and Wisconsin in the late 80s - early 90s, cultures began to crumble and be rebuilt. The owner of a local department store once said to me that he hated to open on Sunday. But he had to do so. It started at Christmas season and moved beyond it. The same happened here in the Twin Cities a couple years ago when the local chain of Christian bookstores decided to open on Sunday afternoons in the weeks before Christmas. They still do it. The Christian expectations of culture have shifted.

And we spend so much time fighting it as if it was an entitlement of ours. We want it this way; therefore it must be this way. The world was better when…. Yes, it may have been, but I doubt it. The good, old days were probably neither. The natural extension of that can also be the political wrangling between the Christian Right and democratic ideas of separation of church and state or the incredible feeling that Christians are being persecuted in the United States. As a pastor from then East Germany once said to me, “You Americans get your American freedom and freedom in Christ all mixed together. That is not good.”

What a waste of our time and energy. What an incredible distraction of what we are supposed to be doing. If Evil were to plan a better way to subvert the mission of the Good (of any type or spiritual history) this would seem to be one of the better ones. Spend all of your time arguing with the culture, trying to secure something you don’t need to truly do your calling. Sure it makes it easier and opens up a lot of possibilities to live in a free country, but it isn’t a necessary condition for the survival of the church. The First Century Church and the Church in China are prime examples of the falsehood of our American Freedom-Centered belief.

What happens is we end up wasting time and energy fighting battles that we shouldn’t be fighting. We are often afraid to discover that people may actually rather go out shopping on Sunday than go to church. We fight the creeping secularism instead of preaching the Gospel. We get angry at out schools for having too many activities or too much homework on the old church night- Wednesday. We are not being positive- we are being negative. We turn Christianity and Church into duties in order to combat these trends. The result is often hostility or confusion or apathy. The loser is not the secular trend. The loser is the church. I will have some thoughts on that in a later installment.

The remnants of Christendom are still here. Perhaps, when they are finally gone, we can get on with being God’s people as a leaven in the bread of the world.

What I Don't Miss (Part 1)

Part One of this series dealt with what I miss now that I am doing "secular" ministry after thirty years as a parish pastor.
Links to
Introduction
What I Miss: Part 1, part 2, part 3

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Perhaps this section needs an epigraph. Here's one from writer James Baldwin:

"The price one pays for pursuing any profession or calling is an intimate knowledge of its ugly side."

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What then is there about the Institution that I won’t miss? Probably most of it. But the basis of what I will not miss is the underlying issue that the survival of the Institution is often the #1 priority. Yes, it’s often said in terms of “mission” or “purpose” or “doing God’s work.” But it’s often really about keeping the Institution alive.

Naturally it is true that if the Institution is alive and healthy then the work of God can more fully be done. No argument there. It is also true that there has to be an organization of some kind. (At least it appears that way as early as the Book of Acts.) But the Institution often becomes the end-all and be-all of the life of the Institution. That then gets translated into the Institution existing to serve itself and those who are its shareholders- its members. The Institution has to continue so there’ll be a place to be married, to have my children baptized, and then someone to bury me. I can only get truly interested in bringing outsiders in if they help the survival of the Institution.

Now that I’ve gotten all that cynical stuff out of the way let me get more specific. But first, a disclaimer. Much of what I’ve said is not necessarily a bad thing. The Institution in some form or another (or many forms or others) is a necessity. The work of God has many variations and facets and aspects. No one of them is the only thing to be done. Acts gives us the best and probably first example way back at the very beginning. The Apostles had their task to do- spread the Gospel by preaching, teaching, and baptizing. But the widows and orphans who were “members” of the community weren’t being supported and served. This was seen as a task as essential as that of the Apostles. You cannot ignore that work and still be doing God’s work in your community. They found the workers who had that gift. The work could now get done. We’re not talking about a hand-holding ministry or providing fun and games at youth group. This was life-supporting work. The widows and orphans needed physical as well as spiritual help. No one else was doing it; God wants it done (see the Prophets); they did it.

This is organization and institution. That it not optional. The question becomes one of extent, purpose, mission, and control. The result in many a modern Institution is far more internal or even self-serving. Nine times out of ten when you mention “outreach” or “bringing in new people” you will get, “But we have to take care of ourselves first. We can’t help them if we can’t do it for ourselves first.” Nothing happens. The metaphor of a country club for the saints is probably overblown and overused. It is much narrower than that. It usually has more to do with control and image in order to assure that the Institution remains like I want it to be.

Examples abound.

Budgets are often so bare bones and filled with fixed, nearly unchangeable costs. Yet by the arguments at most congregational or board meetings you’d think it could be changed by wishing it were so. All figures have to be to the penny. None of this rounding up or down.

Board meetings last forever. Everyone has to have a say. Everyone has to get the final word. Everyone is The Boss. Everyone is an owner. In many instances that leads to a lack of trust of everyone else, especially if they have a different opinion.

This is the unfortunate part of the Institution- it is made up of human beings- sinners and imperfect. It doesn’t appear as if God has a Plan B, however. It’s not going to change, of course, since that‘s how these kind of institutions work.

It doesn’t help a lot to use business or other non-profit models as if they were the solution. Our bottom line is not greater profits or shareholder satisfaction. We can, however, learn from healthy, efficient corporations about effectiveness and support and human resources. In those areas we’re still back in the 50s. They, too, we must remember, have their own fallible imperfections. I’m not sure that we think that we can be fallible in the church since we are supposed to be the Body of Christ, forgetting that Jesus was not an Institution.

After thirty years of control politics and micro-management, I don’t miss it at all. I don’t have to keep trying to have all those juggling balls in the air. I don’t miss those church meetings for even a minute.

It would appear that this has had a negative tone to it. I realize that as I scan what I have written. But I am talking about the things I won’t miss. The Institutional nature of the church is not something I will miss. I used to enjoy the “politics” but have come to realize that we often use the politics in very un-Christ-like ways to control, to shame, to win over others. Some of the things I have seen happen to church leaders is worthy of a dog-eat-dog organization.

So, yes, there will be a negative tone to how I feel. For that I ask your indulgence until I can put this all back together in what I would do differently if I went back.

For now, then, simply hear the sadness under the surface that we have been so unaware of what we do, and confession for the fact that I am not innocent of this myself.

More next week on what I will not miss.

What I Miss (Part 3)

As I said in the first post in this series, this is an attempt to the answer the question: “What would I do differently as a parish pastor if I went back?” After 30 years in ministry and now 3 years in secular ministry, I think this is as good a time as any to begin thinking about that.

In part 1 I began to talk about the things that I miss now that I am doing secular ministry beyond the walls of the church. I said there were three things:

• Serving Communion
• Doing Baptisms
• Community.

In part two, I discovered the important place of funerals in the life of a parish pastor. Often it was for me the pinnacle of ministry even if there were only five of us huddled against a snowy wintry wind.

I think all of these come together in the word community. Everything I have said about sacraments and funerals comes out of and leads back into community. In its own unique way I have a hunch that this is the great “secret” the Apostolic Church that allowed it to grow so explosively across the Roman Empire. They offered an alternative to the secular community that revered the state and worshiped the political leaders. They fed the poor; cared for the widows and orphans; stayed out of politics; and they were there for each other- no matter what. Of course they had their share of problems. Just read most of Paul’s letters. But these didn’t keep the community from growing. I would love to know how, but that’s beyond any of our abilities to ever find out in this life.

I also have a hunch that part of their success was that they were a two-pronged community. One was the community of people; the other was a mystical community. The community was more than the material, there was also the spiritual- connections which gave hope and meaning.

For twenty-two of my thirty years in the parish I experienced that kind of community. (The other eight years are best left to the silence of the past.) In those twenty-two years a bond existed within those two churches that was welcoming and forgiving. They were not churches that shot their wounded. They cared about each other in myriad ways. Of course not every person who walked in the door felt that. Sometimes they were told they were cold and unwelcoming. That’s not unusual. Churches have personalities and not every church can be welcoming to every personality. No church can be all things to all people. Only Jesus could do that. But as a whole these two churches were able to be community.

They also allowed the pastor and family to be an intimate part of that community. He/she/we were not seen as outsiders, there for a short time only to leave. Better not get close, then, for you will be disappointed when the pastor leaves. Sure, they knew that the pastor would one day leave. But that’s no reason to deprive them and you of the chance to get to truly know each other in all the intimacy of community. The pastor was not seen in general as a “hired hand” to do the congregation’s bidding. The pastor and family were as integral to the life of the church as anyone which meant both celebrating and mourning together.

When our daughter was to be baptized at the one church it was only natural that we invited my predecessor- a retired Bishop- to return and do the honors. He was still part of that church’s life in Spirit. He was still deeply loved. We asked him- and then surprised him by having a surprise 70th birthday party so we could all celebrate both together.

In the second congregation I had the painful task of admitting to them and myself that I was an alcoholic and needed to leave them and enter treatment for four weeks. It was suggested by some in the greater church that this would probably mean the end of my ministry there. Might as well start packing the boxes. I had already been there for a little over four years. That’s enough. Leave. Start over. Get a clean slate.

No one in the congregation suggested that (at least to me.) Instead I received over 100 cards and letters in my time in treatment. Maybe more. They then welcomed me back with hopeful open arms.

I stayed. I finally did move the day after I celebrated 11 years of sobriety and over 15 years at the church. It was a deep bond. Very deep. They allowed me to be human. The bond is still there over seven years after we moved.

It is hard to find that in the secular world. It may even be difficult to find it in many churches. I don’t know. I do know I miss it today. But maybe being the pastor for those twenty-two years spoiled me. In both situations it was a community present before I got there and is still there after I’ve been gone. I didn’t have to work at it to build it. I just had to be open to allow myself to be surrounded by it and return it in kind.

Today, for a number of reasons, I don’t live close to the church were I am a member. It’s the closest church of my denomination where I feel I can attend, but it’s thirty miles away- a thirty-five minute drive in the minimal traffic of Sunday morning. I work evenings and Saturdays so I cannot attend weekday events. You don’t develop community at that distance on Sundays only.

I miss the natural community of a church. What I have will have to suffice for now. I may have more to say about this when talking about what I’ve learned in these past three years. It is probably at the heart of what I miss the most- and fear that the church may be losing by leaps and bounds. Only time will tell about that.

A friend asked me how long I can go without this community. I didn’t- and still don’t have an answer. For now I enjoy what community I can find and keep my spiritual eyes and ears open for the possibility of what is waiting out there for me.

Next: What I DON”T miss about parish ministry.

What I Miss (Part 2)

This is part of a series that tries to answer the question: “What would I do differently as a parish pastor if I went back?”
Introduction
Part 1
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In part 1 I began to talk about the things that I miss now that I am doing secular ministry beyond the walls of the church. I said there were three things:

• Serving Communion
• Doing Baptisms
• Community.

I then talked about the first two, the sacraments, and why I miss them.

As I was writing about the role of “sacrament server” it brought to mind one other aspect of parish ministry that I miss, perhaps even more so than the sacraments. I miss the opportunity to perform funerals. The opportunity to be with families, leading them through their time of grief when they have little idea where to go next, standing in the cemetery saying final words.

There has always been something deeply spiritual about those moments for me. Perhaps because I was faced with death in my life at a very young age with my parents dying before I was 16 years old, there continued to be something about funerals that were uniquely special and important. I didn’t always feel natural at doing it. In fact it was often awkward as I tried not to place my personal experiences onto others. But as I got older and was seen as more “mature” people became more willing to let me talk or just be there.

It all came into a vision of clarity on a blustery, late winter’s morning in a rural cemetery. It was a simple graveside service for a man who was the brother of a couple members of the church. There were maybe five of us there as the snow showers moved through and the wind moved over the frozen ground. None of us truly knew what to say. He had died after a number of years living on the streets, homeless, in a distant state. After a few moments of greeting each other I took my place at the head of the casket.

Out of the silence, or perhaps into the silence, I began the words of the liturgy.

Lord, our God, in whom we live, and move, and have our being,

Have mercy upon us.

Lord, our God, you do not willingly bring affliction or grief to your children.

Leave your peace with us.

Ancient words, originally in other languages, brought down to us over the ages through countless versions and places merging into even more timeless words…

I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord. Those who believe in me will live, even though they die; and those who live and believe in me will never die

Then, joining together we prayed, said, pondered, the Lord’s Prayer.

…for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.

Simple words. Oh, but what better place to go when you have nothing else to say. There are no new words that can do that. Even many un-churched find themselves moved when they least expect it by such ancient echoes, simply and imperfectly moving against the cold and snow. They were the movement of the Spirit across the barren ground into waiting souls saying there is more here than meets the eye.

It was a moment of change and reversal and rebirth. I realized that I was standing in a long, long spiritual line. It went far beyond the religious- deeper than that- to the places where the religious rituals and actions seek to connect. It was a line of priests and ministers, Imams and Rabbis, shamans and who knows who. It was a line of those who had been chosen and called for various reasons in all places and cultures to use the words and rites of their unique traditions to help at such a moment of transition when the whole issue of the purpose of life is called into question.

We stand at those moments comforting each other, reminding each other that this life is not all there is, while sending the soul of the departed off to a better and eternal place.

You cannot top those moments.

Which will lead me next to- community.