What is Secular Ministry (2)

Section One of this series dealt with what I miss now that I am doing "secular" ministry after thirty years as a parish pastor. Section Two was about what I don't miss. Section Three is talking about "secular ministry."
Links to earlier sections:
Introduction
1. What I Miss: Part 1, part 2, part 3
2. What I Don't Miss: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Interlude
3. Secular Ministry: Part 1,
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I have to admit that a great deal of my current thought on "secular ministry" following years in parish ministry has been influenced by Barbara Brown Taylor’s amazing memoir, Leaving Church, especially the sections that deal with her new life outside the establishment. It has given some focus to a lot of things that I had rumbling in my mind for the first two years after my moving outside.

Here are some of her thoughts:

• The job of a priest is to recognize holiness in things, hold them up to God and to speak of them to others so that they can recognize the holiness in those things, too. A priest is a priest no matter where s/he happens to be. Outside the church, s/he is working without a net. (pp. 204-205)
• I knew that while the scenery had changed, my vocation had not. I was still on holy ground. All the familiar human sorrows were in that room, all the human hungers for meaning and love. I was still in the privileged position of choosing words that fell into deep water and asking the kinds of questions that mattered. (p.208)
• I was in a room full of 18 and 19-year olds, a group of people most clergy see very little of in church... (p. 208)

As I reflect on those thoughts in my own "secular ministry" I realize again and again that we are not different when called into secular ministry. The setting is different, though. When the world was "officially Christian" ministry took place in and through the church. It was the left-over of a different world. Today when so few (relatively) avail themselves of that ministry it may be time to think again of the model of Jesus' ministry. It was outside the institution- which is where he found the people.

Does this negate the "internal" mission and ministry? Not at all. It simply places it into a new perspective of a postmodern world where the opportunities for ministry are far more varied and less apparently "holy." All the more need for a priest who can reach out and discover the holiness and hold it up to be seen in whatever ways the world may be ready to see.

I, too, am still on holy ground. When I walk into my group room at 6:00 each evening or 9:00 on Saturday morning I am walking into a place where God already is. I may not use "holy" language or "religious" ritual or even "traditional" sacraments. I do come to minister in its best and holiest ways. I am not there to convert or convince or evangelize. No, I am there to feed and clothe and visit and heal. I am bringing into reality the possibilities that God (however they may understand God at that point) has a better and deeper and more peace-filled way of life. I bring grace to a group that may not have heard that such a thing could even exist- especially in their lives.

In our postmodern world we "secular" priests/pastors/prophets are working in places that don't look holy but are just as filled with holiness as any other place in God's presence. I am working with people most clergy would love to see in church, but won't. Like Barbara Brown Taylor's classroom, my group room or counseling office become sanctuaries- safe places. They become holy ground where I stand in awe of God's power at work day in and day out.

One more quote from Leaving Church.

• I saw that my humanity was all I had left to work with. I saw in fact that it was all I had ever to work with. There was no mastering divinity. My vocation was to love God and my neighbor and that was something I could do anywhere, with anyone, with or without a collar. My priesthood was not what I did, but who I was. In this new light, nothing was wasted. All that had gone before was blessing and all yet to come was more. (p. 209)

I guess maybe my cutesy introduction to secular ministry a few weeks ago may not be as far from the truth as it felt. Secular ministry may very well be nothing more- and nothing less- than doing ministry just like Jesus did it.

What is Secular Ministry?

Section One of this series dealt with what I miss now that I am doing "secular" ministry after thirty years as a parish pastor. Section Two was about what I don't miss.
Links to earlier sections:
Introduction
1. What I Miss: Part 1, part 2, part 3
2. What I Don't Miss: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Interlude
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
What then is this thing I keep talking about that is “secular ministry?”

I could be cutesy and say something like, “Secular ministry is doing ministry the same way Jesus did it, outside the religious institution.”

That IS part of the definition, of course, but it’s more than that.

To put this all as simply as I can-

secular ministry is doing God’s work of living the Good News among those who may not be in or involved in the church- and doing it with no connection to the work and ministry of the church. It is being in times and places where the Gospel may not be spoken or might be challenged if it was.

I have always been an articulate person, who, even though shy, has been able to stand before a crowd and speak. For that reason I was always chosen to give the “message” whenever our youth fellowship did worship. After every time someone would invariably come up to me and say something to the effect that I belong in the ministry.

I would smile, say thank you, and add, "but I could have a greater witness not being a minister." Why should that be? I felt that people were less real when the pastor was around. Therefore a non-clergy could be places and have openings that a clergy could never have.

In that are the roots for what I am today calling “secular ministry.” You are able to impact people who would never be inside the church or even be available for discussions on spiritual matters.

One of the underlying groundings of this is that people are in need of hope, promise, grace, and love – unconditional acceptance – where they are, not where we want them to be or think they should be. It’s kind of like doing what God has already done for us. While we were still sinners, Paul reminds us, Jesus came. He didn’t wait until we were perfect or even repentant. If he had waited for that, well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.

We live in a secular world. Perhaps more to the point, we live in a world that often ignores or struggles against the sacred even though it is right there in front of us. It is a world dominated by non-spiritual values such as war, consumerism, fear, wealth, poverty, crime, addiction. You all know the list. Yet at the same time, the non-spiritual values are in fact spiritually driven. They often seek to fill the holes left by spiritual desires and drives for meaning, hope, and purpose.

In other words this is a world that is just like the world has always been. Jesus promised that the time of the coming of the Son of Man would be like the days of Noah. People will be eating, drinking, marrying. Normal. The world Jesus walked in was just like the world we walk in.

It’s also the world we all work in whether we are in the church or not. These things are the roots of what I have talked about not missing about the church. We just try to hide it better or mask it or deny it inside the organization.

Anyway, let’s talk about ministry. In our Western, Christian view, this is what the clergy do. We have developed a whole language that makes that clear because, alongside ministry (no adjective attached) we have “lay” ministry as if one (the one without the adjective) is more essential to the church than the other. The dichotomy goes back to the pedestal problem, but reveals the deep division that often exists between clergy and members.

From this problematic point of view the ministry is what is done most of the time by professionals inside the church for the benefit of the church. Once in a while we may talk about some outside ministry but most of the time ministry is what happens within the doors; things that people have to come to get so they can be ministered to.

One of the questions I have often batted around in conversations with church people (non-clergy-types) was, “Do you see what you do in your daily work life as ‘ministry’?” More often than not I get a quick “No” even from people who work in the service sector where they are helping people. “Of course not,” is often the unspoken reply. “I don’t work in the church.”

Every now and then someone will surprise me. “Sure,” one person said. “No matter what I’m doing I’m doing it for God and helping others hopefully see God through me.” This person worked in industry.

So let’s look at the heart of the word, not its current usage. Here’s its etymology from Dictionary.com and the Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2001 Douglas Harper:

1297, "one who acts upon the authority of another," from O.Fr. ministre "servant," from L. minister (gen. ministri) "servant, priest's assistant" (in M.L. "priest"), from minus, minor "less," hence "subordinate," + comp. suffix *-teros.
Meaning "priest" is attested in Eng. from c.1315.
The verb is from c.1300, originally "to serve (food or drink)."

Servant. Right from the words of Jesus about what his followers are supposed to be. We have no problem thinking of that when the pastor calls him/herself a “servant.” That’s what they’re getting paid to do. But we have a difficult time when we move outside the church. I had people tell me I would always be a pastor or minister because that’s my personality. I would challenge back and say, “But you’re a minister, too.” To which they would often respond. “No, that’s not the same thing.” Only the ordained do “real” ministry.

Others have asked, “Why did you leave the ministry?” I always respond, “I didn’t. I just changed the location.”

Which should be every Christian’s response.

More next week as we continue to look at secular ministry- life in the world- and what we can learn and experience.

Interlude (1)

Section One of this series dealt with what I miss now that I am doing "secular" ministry after thirty years as a parish pastor. Section Two was about what I don't miss.
Links to earlier sections:
Introduction
1. What I Miss: Part 1, part 2, part 3
2. What I Don't Miss: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
So Far, What Does This Mean?
One of the readers of this series asked me the other day- “So, you aren’t going back, are you?” That seemed to be his take on what I was saying in this series. I guess it would be possible to read it that way. I have spent a good deal of time talking about what I don’t miss. But I also spent a great deal of time about what I do miss.

But both of those miss the point.

This is for me, in essence, a reflection on the church and it’s role and place in our world. One thing that I have never doubted in these 3+ years of secular ministry is that I still care very deeply about the church and its future. I spent 30 years serving God through the church- and at times serving the church just because that was my calling from God.

In that is the pivotal point in the issues of whether I go back into parish ministry or not.

Calling.

I have told denominational leaders since going on leave of absence that I will consider any call sent to me with an open and prayerful mind. I am still a minister of, a clergy of the church. If God wants me to be in that position again I will be in that position again. I have learned through experience not to close doors on God and “never to say never.” I have no idea where this reflection will lead me personally, though. It is a mental and prayerful examination of what it’s like on the outside looking in. It is an attempt to say where I see the church and what I think might be some insights into its future.

Calling is a tricky idea to deal with in the church. When it has a small “c” it is generic. It is what any Christian can be “called” to do for God. We have the other one with the capital “C” which has come to mean service to the church. I am not sure I like that dichotomy. It doesn’t appear as if Jesus did. It ends up with power or prestige or more-vs.-less holiness. When I get to the end of this series I may perhaps have a better idea of what that means to me.

But next week I will move on to the next thought- what I mean by secular ministry. Until then, I reflect on the idea of calling by remembering what one of my guides- Frederick Buechner -
has said about calling:

The place where God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.

That is what this is really all about for individuals and for the church.

What I Don't Miss (Part 3)

Section 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

Section 2 is all about What I Don't Miss
Part 1, Part 2
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Putting together what I don’t miss in as clear and careful way as I can is that the institution has, in many instances, lost its mission. We can see the roots of that in the other two things I have already talked about- the sense of control and the entitlement of Christendom. Let me explain.

Thirty-five years ago when I entered the parish ministry we thought we still lived in Christendom. Underlying that is the belief that everyone, with a couple exceptions here and there, was a Christian. Some may be of one type, some may be of another, but underneath it all we are all the same.

Since everyone around here is a Christian, the mission of the church is really to be found in far away places where the non-Christians (sometimes called heathens or pagans) live. Mission festivals celebrated this work. We collected money and other goods to ship over there. Once in a while a son of the congregation became a missionary (or a daughter married one) and went overseas from where we got all kinds of letters and updates and sometimes an interesting show when they came home on leave.

My Moravian denomination was built on this work. Overseas mission was- and still is- essential and honorable work and definitely not to be overlooked. When the Moravians in 1731 decided to send missionaries to the West Indies they were thought to be crazy. They became the first Protestant missionaries. When they came to America in the 1740s they did so to bring the Gospel to the Indians. They often treated them well and did not participate in most cases with the oppression that was building.

Most American denominations have supported mission workers around the world. They never thought that the mission field was actually growing around them while they lived in their understanding of Christendom. Pretty soon, however, more and more different types of Christians showed up. A community that had once had only three churches now had seven. Denominational loyalty became more difficult- or the flip side- even more determinative. When you feel under siege, you circle the wagons. Little did we realize that the siege wasn’t even happening. We were slowly finding ourselves as outside the thought of many people.

That’s where the control sets in. And blaming. And inward looking. In the centuries of Western Christendom, though, we lost our understanding of who we are. We are not the anointer of the king or the political partner of an ideology. We are not a place for US. We are a place to go from. We expect people to come to us- hence we have to advertise. In reality, if I read Jesus correctly, we to be a community we leave from to bring the least and the lost and hurting and hungry and naked and imprisoned back to join us.

Mission. We don’t have it. We don’t want it. The people we bring in might be dirty or different or obvious sinners or drunks or …. We still use the language. We still think we are doing that mission. But too much of the time we are not.

I am saddened by that. I do not miss it for one moment. Or more to the point, I do not miss trying to convince us (yes, me, too) that we should be about something else.

Please don’t misunderstand me. As Philip Yancey said in a recent column in Christianity Today, a lot of good things DO happen in the church.

The world is full of pain. The prosperity promised on religious television must exist in some alternate universe from what I encounter as I visit churches in person. For all its faults and failures, the church offers a place to bring wounds and to seek meaning in times of brokenness and struggle.

It is a shame that we cannot do that more often to those beyond our current boundaries, boxes, and fears. I dream of a time when we can rediscover the incredible power, strength, peace, hope, and joy that mission work can bring. Not to mention the even more unbelievable feeling of doing God’s work.

Before taking up the next phase of this series by looking at the idea of “secular ministry,” let me repeat a story that I have used before. It was the Preface to the classic Introduction to Pastoral Care and Counseling by Howard Clinebell. When I first read it in 1972 I was overwhelmed. It has set the definition for my ministry (though not as well as I would have liked at times.) I would preach it every three years or so, even if they had heard it before. It is that important to me. It speaks today as well as ever.

"The Parable Of The Lifesaving Station"
On a dangerous seacoast where shipwrecks often occur there was once a crude little lifesaving station. The building was just a hut, and there was only one boat, but the few devoted members kept a constant watch over the sea, and with no thought for themselves, they went out day or night tirelessly searching for the lost.

Many lives were saved by this wonderful little station, so that it became famous. Some of those who were saved, and various others in the surrounding areas, wanted to become associated with the station and give of their time and money and effort for the support of its work. New boats were bought and new crews were trained. The little lifesaving station grew.

Some of the new members of the lifesaving station were unhappy that the building was so crude and so poorly equipped. They felt that a more comfortable place should be provided as the first refuge of those saved from the sea.

They replaced the emergency cots with beds and put better furniture in an enlarged building. Now the lifesaving station became a popular gathering place for its members, and they redecorated it beautifully and furnished it as a sort of club.

Less of the members were now interested in going to sea on lifesaving missions, so they hired lifeboat crews to do this work.

The mission of lifesaving was still given lip-service but most were too busy or lacked the necessary commitment to take part in the lifesaving activities personally.

About this time a large ship was wrecked off the coast, and the hired crews brought in boat loads of cold, wet and half-drowned people.

They were dirty and sick, some had skin of a different color, some spoke a strange language, and the beautiful new club was considerably messed up. So the property committee immediately had a shower house built outside the club where victims of shipwreck could be cleaned up before coming inside.

At the next meeting, there was a split in the club membership. Most of the members wanted to stop the club's lifesaving activities as being unpleasant and a hindrance to the normal pattern of the club.

But some members insisted that lifesaving was their primary purpose and pointed out that they were still called a lifesaving station. But they were finally voted down and told that if they wanted to save the life of all various kinds of people who were shipwrecked in those waters, they could begin their own lifesaving station down the coast.

They did.

As the years went by, the new station experienced the same changes that had occurred in the old. They evolved into a club and yet another lifesaving station was founded.

If you visit the seacoast today you will find a number of exclusive clubs along that shore. Shipwrecks are still frequent in those waters, but now most of the people drown!

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
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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.

What I Miss (Part 1)

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?”

(See Introduction for some more background.) 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. Here then is part 1.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The best place for me to start is with the essential question: “What do I miss about doing ministry in the church?” My immediate first response had three things:

• Serving Communion
• Doing Baptisms
• Community.

Those are the basics.

Yet I wonder, even as I write that, if the first two are in reality power trips. That is an odd thought that had never come to mind before. Think about it, though. How much power does one feel when he or she is doing something that is done only by people like you- and you do it for God.

It is also potentially selfish. It has always been such a joy to say the awesome words of both sacraments. Take the bread and the cup and then serve others. It is a remarkable feeling. Am I just missing the feeling and the power? When I do those events there are a number of role-feelings that I can have.

Mediator? i.e. priest-like. Yes, I can say there is some of that even in the Protestant tradition.

Holy One? I mean that in the sense of the keeper and sharer of the sacred story. Yes, certainly there is some of that.

Servant? In the tradition I come from this one is the most certain of the role-feelings. We stand when we received Holy Communion from the clergy who comes into the pews and serves each individual at an equal level. To be able to stand, look the person in the eye and then to share, for a moment, the mystery we are both partaking of. That’s not magic- it is a faith-filled mystery that I do miss more than any other part of it.

It is the same with Baptism. I would take the water and place it on the baby’s forehead and then remind all of us who are baptized that we live- yet it is not us, but Christ who is living in us. Another mystery of depth and holy awe.

Sacraments: the outward and visible signs of the Grace of God that can work within us. To be allowed to share that mystical, spiritual intimacy is incredibly humbling. It is not, then, a sense of power. It is in itself and “anti-“power- a moment of humility in a not so humble world.

Of course many clergy are put on a pedestal that can feed their ego and give them a sense of controlling power. I do not miss that. (I’ll probably have more to say about this in the section on what I don’t miss.) I love being just me. Whatever “holy” vibes I may be able to give to others has to come from somewhere else and not given because I have a title. I try to be real and to be me as God has given it all to me.

Originally that’s where the servants and “holy ones” came from. They were called out not because they saw something in themselves that was special, but because the community did. That’s how they often got to be tribal elders or medicine men or the holy ones. They stood out, not by calling attention to themselves, but by living their lives as they were meant to live them and the community noticed. The mystery of the spiritual became more visible when they were around.

Of course, just because someone has a “title” or a “position” does not mean that they are automatically able to live and share that mystery. Some definitely grow into it. Others never do and the results can be damaging to many around them. In fact, I have a hunch that the crisis of many a church leader has been to some extent caused by this disconnect or a misuse of the spiritual pulled apart by the original sinfulness of we poor, powerless, human beings.

I guess, then, what I miss is those moments and times when I am reminded of the work of the community through the sacraments and the work of God in the community. I miss being the one who can help bring that to life. I miss the joy of being a vessel of that to occur.

Maybe, after all, that is selfish or even part of a power trip. I hope I did it well, though. I hope I was able to open a door to the holy through my actions. But I do miss doing it- and love it when I am there to participate in the pews.

Next time: More of what I miss about being a parish pastor- funerals and an introduction to community.

If I Went Back (Introduction)

What would I do differently today if I were to go back into parish ministry? For no particular reason I asked myself that question the other week.

Three years ago I went on a leave of absence after 30 years in parish ministry. I have the good fortune of being a licensed alcohol and drug counselor and a licensed professional counselor which gives me some freedom to go out and earn my living in what I have come to decide is secular ministry. In other words, three years ago I finally listened to God’s call to do ministry outside the church where few pastors are able to go.

In these three years I have spent a great many hours thinking, praying, reading, and writing in my journal (and here on the blog) about the church. I have sat in church wondering what it is all about from this side of the pulpit. I have had a few opportunities to preach or lead communion and I asked myself as many questions as I could. I keep asking myself the question, “Why do I still care?” What is it about “church” that keeps me confounded and “interested?”

Friends have asked me “So, what have you learned about the church in this time?” But no one has asked me what I would do differently now if I went back into the parish. I have no idea whether that’s because they don’t expect me to go back or whether they just assume that if I did I would do the same things I always did.

Or, since I have always been the pioneer, early adopter, never-satisfied-with-the-status quo- radical-type, maybe they haven’t wanted to hear what I have to say.

Since being on leave of absence means that while I am not “officially” on the “call list,” I am open for call if one comes. Perhaps that's why the question did finally come to me a couple weeks ago. It was kind of out of the blue. I am not holding a call and I have no idea whether I will ever get one. But it is an interesting activity.

What would I do?

What I have learned?

What don't I miss?

What do I miss?

Over the next few weeks I am going to try to answers those questions here in this postmodern Pilgrim’s space, perhaps in a once a week post. I will take them in reverse order since that is the way I experienced them. I don’t know entirely what I will find as I put these thoughts on the virtual page. I have no bottom line.

Yet. Perhaps there isn’t one. Perhaps in the end it isn’t my decision anyway. I believe in the ability of God to call us to where we are supposed to be. I know I am where God wants me at this moment. Perhaps at this time in my life and the life of the Moravian Church, my ministry and insights are more useful in secular ministry. We'll see where God leads me in this.

More next week.

I ask that you pray for insight for me as I work on this. Pray simply that, in the words of the Eleventh Step of AA that I may find an improved “conscious contact with God, [as I pray simply] only for knowledge of his will… and the power to carry it out.”