Reason for Skepticism on the Sawdust (or Catfish) Trail

Years of observation of the political system have made me very skeptical of overt religiosity by political leaders – or anyone for that fact.  Excessive outward piety is a sign of a potential fraud, opportunist, or huckster.  Sinclair Lewis’ Elmer Gantry seared that skepticism into my spirit.

Having observed political leaders, sometimes close-at-hand, has informed and reinforced that skepticism.  I remember all-too-well Richard Nixon’s close and manipulative relationship with the iconic Billy Graham (once even borrowing a 20-spot from Graham to place in the offering plate at Graham’s crusade in Knoxville, Tennessee).  The tapes of Graham’s conversations with Nixon in the Oval Office were not flattering to either of the men, and Graham has appropriately apologized for his part in those conversations.

Other, more graphic, tapes show how cynical Nixon’s use of the great evangelist was.

We have seen over the years the use and manipulation of the political system by those who would wear their piety outwardly and prominently.  We do not have to go back very far in Mississippi’s history to see how we have been led down the primrose path by politicians who said one thing publicly and acted another way in private.  In fact, some of the evidence is very recent.

Oliver Wentzell, the late, long-time owner of a Mobile seafood restaurant which bears his name, supposedly ran for sheriff of Mobile County, Alabama.  He is reputed to have said, “I’ll stand for whatever the public will fall for.”  If that story is not true, it still bears a lot of truth.

I have watched – in my travels up and down Highway 49 – as a spectacularly tall metal cross has been erected adjacent to an all-you-can-eat catfish restaurant (What is one of the seven deadly sins?).  It is like others I have seen elsewhere – like at the Interstate 55 Winona exit.  I find it to be gaudy and a bit pretentious, but it was the dedication ceremony of that cross which really raised questions for me.

The Clarion-Ledger’s account of that dedication may be found here: http://www.clarionledger.com/story/news/2015/04/03/catfish-house-dedicates-cross/25271221/. I was struck by several quotations from that story.  Here are a few:

Governor Phil Bryant: "Ladies and gentlemen the old rugged cross stands here today, a bright shining emblem of the salvation that has been eternal and with God's blessing it will remain so."

U. S. Congressman Gregg Harper: "As the souls that are driving by right now, I dare say that there are more who do not know Jesus Christ than do know Jesus Christ and we need to remember to pray for those. And, I think this cross is an incredible reminder of the love that we have.”

Lieutenant Governor Tate Reeves was there, too, but apparently not as quotable.

Perhaps most telling were some of the comments from the restaurant’s owner:  "Ain't it an awesome thing… that we have a governor, a lieutenant governor and congressman that still stand on the values that this country was founded over 200 years ago on?"

"If everybody was like this, this country wouldn't be going to hell like it is. Period. I'm not going to sugar coat it," he said.

I am reminded of the questions and controversy which arose after some similar, ill-advised comments by then-Senator Trent Lott, at the birthday of then-Senator Strom Thurmond (see comments above).

I thought another quotation was interesting, as well – also from the owner: "You're gonna get people coming against you of course, your atheists, your critics, they're out there. But, when you take a stand for Christ, he'll take a stand for you," he said.

I am aware of what Jesus said about practicing piety in public.  I am aware of his castigation of those who wore their religion very prominently and publicly. I am aware of his concern for the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed, and the least of these. 

Questions I would pose to Congressman Harper, who spoke those words, and to those who listened:  What does it mean to know Christ?  How can we ascertain that those who embrace this tall, outward symbol in Florence, Mississippi are more faithful than those who find it a bit tacky and the political leaders’ words to prompt skepticism?

I am conscious of the facts that we live in a state which has the lowest level of education of any state, the lowest per capita income, and the highest level of obesity. Our political system is still energized by the third rail of politics (race) and, largely because of that residual animus, our Legislature has refused to enact expansions of Medicaid – which would help those about whom Jesus was most concerned.

I am a Christian.  I am proud to be one.  My life has been touched – repeatedly – and transformed by the presence of the living Christ moving in my life.  But I refuse to join this bandwagon. Call me what you will. The life I find compelling is not one of prideful piety, but the one of quiet, generous, humble, and gracious faith.

Howard K. Smith, the longtime ABC newscaster, said one time, “When someone says they’re just a country lawyer, you better check for your wallet.”  The same could be applied in this case.

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A great column on this subject may be found at the following link:  http://www.deepsouthdaily.com/2015/04/in-mississippi-the-tower-of-babel-rises.html

 

 

 

 

The Lenses Through Which We See

 

I was struck today by a portion of the second lesson – 1 Corinthians 2:1-16.  The words are some of Paul’s most familiar, but they struck home with new force today: “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”  He continues: “And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.”

Paul was no dummy.  A Hellenistic Jew, he was well aware of the popular thought and philosophies which permeated the first century Mediterranean world.  He was trained as a Pharisee and knew the Law through-and-through.  Yet, it was none of that which was primary in his mind.  Something else served as the lenses through which he saw the world surrounding him.

 

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Many of us wear glasses.  They are necessary for us to see clearly.  I cannot read the text messages on my cell phone without them.  Those glasses – those optical lenses – are one of my favorite metaphors for faith.  Faith is the lens through which we Christians see the world.  Those lenses are not rose-colored, but they do show us different dimensions of our existence.

Perhaps the most profound for Christians is the experience of standing at the grave of a loved one.  Our burial liturgy includes these words, as we face a casket, a vault, a hole in the ground, and a mound of dirt off to the side: “All of us go down  to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.”

That is a remarkably counter-intuitive perspective. Our lenses of faith cause us to perceive things differently.  That is the nature of faith.

 But there is more.  And there was much more for Paul.

 

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 Paul had been well-educated as a boy and young man. In spite of all that he had learned, and in spite of his broad education, there were a different set of lenses through which he interpreted the world.  For him, the cross of Jesus Christ defined the world in an entirely different way.  “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” The life, suffering and death of Jesus Christ – the one he had encountered in a blinding light on the road to Damascus – changed everything for him.

For Paul, the world was different.  God’s self-offering and incarnation – his emptying of self – redefined human existence and our relationship to the Divine and one another.  Paul recognized that neither he, Apollos, Cephas nor anyone else mattered at all in light of God’s self-offering and sacrificial love in Jesus Christ.  Nothing else matters.  No categories could define us any more (slave or free, Jew or Greek, sinner or righteous). We were all beloved children of God. In fact, we all are beloved children of God.

Paul’s theology springs from the deep well of awareness of God’s love that is represented in the life and death of Jesus.  His being grasped by that recognition – literally knocked off his horse by it – radically changed the way he viewed the world and the people he encountered.

Would that we could adopt that way of seeing the world as fully as Paul.  But we do so episodically, fragmentally, sporadically. We see through a glass darkly.

In retrospect, I see how my vision has been altered – even if only occasionally.  I recently was filling my car at a convenience store near my home.  As I pumped the gas, I saw a street person approaching down the street, showing all the signs of being someone looking for a handout.  As I went into the store to retrieve my receipt, I noticed he was standing off to the side of the store, staying out of the watchful gaze of the store clerk.

As I walked out of the store, I heard him say, “Excuse me, sir.” His voice was faint, and my back was to him.  I kept walking, got in my car, and drove quickly off toward my home, a couple of blocks away.

There was something that would not let go of me, though.  Was this merely a street person, wanting a handout? An inconsequential bit of human debris who should be ignored?  Or was he something else? Was he a fellow child of God, for whom Jesus had given his life?  Was he someone who is loved and cherished by the One we do not fully know, even as I am loved and cherished?

The lenses which my faith had given me would not allow me to just delete the memory of this person from my mind.  After a few minutes at home, I gathered some money, got back in the car and drove back up to the convenience store.  After a couple of passes, I saw him standing where he had been earlier.

I drove up beside him, rolled down my window and said, “I was here just a minute ago.  I want you to have this.” I gave him a small wad of cash.  He smiled and said, “God bless you.”  Fellow children of God had connected very briefly, for just a moment.

Sadly, that was a unique experience for me.  It stands out because it is different from my usual behavior. I still see the world in a blurred way – without the clarity that Paul so clearly articulated.  I am still becoming.

 I realize it now. The lenses through which Paul viewed the world – Jesus Christ and him crucified – do not allow us to see the world as we might normally see it.  His sight was forever changed.  I hope to gain that vision bit-by-bit.

Waterbugs Skittering

 

Bishop John Maury Allin, sixth Bishop of Mississippi and 23^rd Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, is reputed to have said on his retirement, “I have spent my life helping people become Episcopalians.  Now I want to help people become Christians.”

As I relaxed on the beach at Fort Morgan, Alabama, during our family’s annual Christmas vacation, I had time to reflect on this journey of faith and this peculiar vocation. The silence was a wonderful opportunity for such contemplation.

My thoughts turned toward an aspect of Bishop Allin’s reputed comments.  Has my ministry been one of helping people become Christians?  Or has it been something else?

There is an important distinction to be made:  I am not talking about the factuality of a person being a Christian; that is accomplished, we believe, in the sacrament of Holy Baptism (justification). What I am concerned about is the manifestation of that justification in one’s life, i.e. the progressive sanctification. How does the Christian faith make any difference in a person’s life?

Likewise, I wonder about how our congregations manifest the faith which is embraced in the sacrament of Holy Eucharist, the recitation of the Nicene Creed, the renewal of baptismal vows, and the repeating of the Apostles’ Creed.  How are our congregations any different from any other community-building organization.

What difference does our embracing of Christianity make?

I’m not even sure that I have been focused on helping people become genuine Episcopalians.  And I seriously doubt that I have prompted many people to enter deeply into the Christian life. What I have offered, I think, is a variety of cultural Christianity which has more to do with reflecting the cultural mores of a slice of Middle America.  Our self-definition has been according to criteria such not a Baptist or not a Catholic or not a fundamentalist rather than the transformation of a life into a committed Christian.

I pondered what Christianity means in this culture.  I want to be clear:  The brand of cultural Christianity I’ve been hawking is not the only form of cultural Christianity being pedaled in this society.  Many of those I have encountered – I want to be sure to include myself in this – have taken an eye off the ball in terms of authentic Christianity.  I have encountered true saints of deep and profound faith, but they are rare.  Many others want to be true, deep, and authentic Christians, but they either are unaware of how to live that life, or they are afraid of what it would require (That call by Jesus to “take up your cross and follow me” is pretty daunting).

Will Campbell, the iconic and irenic figure of the 1960s, once spoke of the Eucharist being obscene.  His perspective was that the church spends massive amounts of money on providing all the accoutrements of liturgy (silver, fine linens, beautiful vestments) while the world not far from our sacred buildings is characterized by chaos, poverty, crime, abuse, racism, suffering, loneliness, grief, hunger, and other signs of a fallen creation.

In my silence and solitude, I reflected on Christianity and the world around us.  My vision turned toward the Mississippi Delta, where poverty, brokenness, illiteracy, illness, broken families, and hopelessness abound. What is the significant impact of the church there? How are our churches – and our individual members – represented there? What difference do we make?

My thoughts turned toward Uganda, the Sudan, and other places of extreme poverty, hunger and suffering throughout the world.  The images of starving children came to mind.  Bloated bellies were haunting me in my world of plenty.  The violence so endemic to those circumstances – brother oppressing brother – came to my consciousness.

 It occurred to me:  So much of what the church is and does, especially on a local level, is like a waterbug skittering along the surface of a pond. There may be turmoil, turbulence, and chaos beneath that surface, but the waterbug is blissfully unaware.  He just skitters along, not concerned what the world beneath is like.

This whole reflection may be seen as a paean to some idealized Christianity.  As such, it may not reflect reality (it most certainly does not) and may deny the limits of human nature and ability to respond meaningfully to a significantly broken world.

But I think that is the nature of Christianity.  It calls for the transformation of human limitations and the healing of a broken world.  And here is the hard part:  that expectation is there regardless of the price to be paid.

How will my life and journey change, in light of this reflection?  I do not know… yet.

“Like a son of the gods”

Our family gathered in Mobile for Christmas Eve.  It was a joyous occasion as we celebrated the Nativity for the first-time with our nine-month-old grandson.

Nora and I were there along with son Chris (who had the day before celebrated his 32^nd birthday), daughter Leigh, son-in-law Fred, and grandson Wilt.  The weather was perfect for a southern Christmas – a chill in the air with a starry night. It was a good night to be in warm homes, gathered with family, preparing to share presents.

The family gathered fully for the first time on this holiday at the Christmas Eve service at Christ Church Cathedral.  The musical prelude was beautiful.  It set the tone for the service so well.  The church was full as families came together in reserved pews for the sacred beginning of the observance of Christmas.  The Bishop celebrated and the Dean preached.  Hers was a moving sermon, recalling the example of Phillips Brooks, one-time rector of Trinity Church, Copley Square, in Boston, and lyricist of the hymn, “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”

There was a sense of warmth present – a feeling that, for that brief moment, all was right with the world.  The Savior had come.  A child had been born. Emmanuel. God with us.  The ground of our being had become one with us in human form. From him we have all received grace upon grace.

We departed the peace and majesty of that service in the cold, dark night.  Our children and grandson went in one car.  Nora and I left in our car.  We began the three-mile drive back to our daughter’s home in Midtown Mobile.

As we drove west on Government Street, I looked for a place to purchase gas for my car.  Nora and I had a 65 mile drive to Fort Morgan later that night, and I needed gas to make the drive.

We were perhaps half-way down Government Street when I saw an Exxon station lighted and open.  I pulled in to the station and up to a vacant pump.  The manager of the station was hosing down the concrete premises. The station appeared largely vacant, other than him.

As I got out of my car to pump the gas, I saw an older African American man walking across the station’s concrete apron.  He was talking to the station manager as he walked, and was carrying two plastic grocery store bags, one in each hand.  He was bundled against the night’s cold.  His sparse beard was flecked with grey. His wool hat was pulled over his hair.  A few of his stained teeth were missing.  He walked toward me.

I was dressed in my typical “civilian” church clothes: navy blue blazer, blue-and-white tape-stripe shirt, faintly-patterned grey-checkered slacks, and my comfortable brown oxford shoes.  I did not wear a tie.  I was “Mr. Middle Class”.

As he walked toward me, I thought of the four $20 bills folded neatly in my pocket.  I wondered what he would ask, and I thought about what I would give.  “After all, it is Christmas Eve,” I thought to myself.

He walked to within about eight feet of me.  “Ain’t it wonderful?” he said.  “The girl was nearly burned to death 30 years ago.”  He was clearly clued into a story I did not know.

“Yes, that’s right.  She nearly burned to death.  And now she is a young woman! Isn’t that wonderful? God is good!”

Surprised and puzzled, I responded: “Yes, that is good.” 

He continued, a smile on his weathered face:  “And you know what?  Have you ever seen the story in the Bible?  The one about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego?”

“Yes, I know that one,” I replied. “The one about the fiery furnace.”

“That’s right,” he said.  “They were in the fire and they saw a fourth man in there..”

“Like a son of God,” I completed his sentence.

“That’s right,” he said. “There was a fourth person with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. One like God.  Isn’t that great?  That’s what happened to that girl.  God was with her.  And now she’s a grown woman.” 

“That’s a wonderful story,” I said.

“Have a merry Christmas,” he said, as he walked away into the night.

“And you, too,” I responded.

He had asked for nothing.  And he gave me so much.

I finished filling my car.  I put the nozzle back in its place, replaced the gas cap, and closed the cover.

I looked around in the night.  There was Nora, me, and the station manager. The three of us.  And the mysterious, grateful man who had walked into the night, “one like a son of the gods.”

Is there balm in Gilead?

 

My previous blog post may pose an interesting question: What promotes balance within the cleric’s life? In other words, how does an ordained person avoid the gaping maw of those destructive characteristics described in the last post?  Are we merely to live life as it comes with the phrase que sera, sera, as our fatalistic approach to life? 

No, we are not.  There are ways to achieve some modicum of balance in our lives, though, by necessity, it will be a dynamic balance – always subject to shifting, movement, and adjustment. 

Following are some remedies to prevent the downward spiral caused by tendencies such as isolation, despair, anger, overwork, mania, emptiness and addictions: 

·         Consistent Spiritual Disciplines – This may seem like a “no brainer” for a priest, but sometimes the tendency is to be so wrapped-up in “church work” that we forget to tend the vine which nourishes us.  A personal discipline of prayer, quietness, mindfulness, and solitude will contribute significantly to a foundation for the healthy exercise of the ordained vocation. There are many variations and forms of this discipline.  The key is to have some form as part of your daily life. (I would note that many people find a frank, open relationship to a spiritual companion/director very important.) 

·         Exercise – Exercise which a person enjoys is good for the body and the soul.  There are physiological changes, on several levels, which occur with exercise and any thorough description of those effects is well beyond my expertise.  I know from personal experience that moderate exercise serves to clear the cobwebs from my head, allows me to release pent-up frustration in a healthy way, and provides a sense of vitality and relaxation that is good for me.  My personal form of exercise is walking. And while it is not the same as running a marathon, the recommended 30-minutes per day, five-days per week is a good standard for maintaining balance. 

·         Collegial Support – I have said to Mississippi clergy that if I had one gift to give all clergy, it would be the gift of a self-selected peer support group.  Such a group – which has as its foundations candor, confidentiality, and accountability – can be a meaningful means of support.  It helps the ordained person realize that the vocational journey need not be an isolated one; that others walk a similar path and share similar experiences.  The characteristics of candor, confidentiality, and accountability are important. Otherwise, the exercise becomes meaningless and has reduced benefits.  This particular concept is at the core of Post Ordination Consultation and Fresh Start. 

·         Time with Loved Ones – The concept of balance, at its core, should provide time for those we love.  I know that relates to many permutations of relations – family of various sorts, and friends of many types.  An important factor is that this is time away from the vocation and an opportunity to share life with those for whom our vocation is irrelevant. It is in such times that we are able to delve into the connections by which our lives are fed and by which we express our gratitude – by time and presence – with those who are important to us.  In many cases, the vows we have taken – in marriage or at the baptismal font – precede our ordination vows.  Those meaningful relationships should not be cast-off or sacrificed on the altar of vocation. 

·         Fun – Life can become heavy and burdensome in the ordained ministry.  We deal with matters that have significant impacts on people’s lives.  We must hold much of it within the corners of our own hearts.  Much that we deal with cannot be easily solved or resolved at all. Many times we live grasping the tragic remainder.  We are subject to projections and transferences, for better or worse, that are out of our control. All these factors mean that we need to have sources of joy that are outside of the vocation. There is a limitless list of possibilities: various hobbies, such as cooking, golf, tennis, model railroading, knitting, painting, photography and others; hiking; bicycling; music; and sporting events.  These, and others, can be yeast to provide airiness to life when it becomes too oppressive.  

·         Intellectual Stimulation – I was told by a friend that she had mentioned to another acquaintance that she was reading a specific book that was popular at the time.  The acquaintance responded, “I don’t read.”  If we find ourselves encountering life without the intellectual curiosity that is so characteristically human, we lose an important part of ourselves.  The intellectual stimulation which is encouraged here is not necessarily something that contributes directly to our vocational exercise. I am not saying that a cleric needs to be poring over the volumes of Church Dogmatics by Karl Barth. I am suggesting that it is important to find a stimulating intellectual area and pursue it.  Find an area of literature or life that you enjoy, and then go deep into it.  It will likely yield benefits to your life and vocation (and, yes, conversation) on many levels. 

·         Laughter – Doris Kearns Goodwin, in her much-admired book Team of Rivals, wrote of Abraham Lincoln’s bountiful sense of humor, even in the darkest days of the Civil War.  He had a tendency, even in the tensest of moments, to recall a story or anecdote which brought levity to the direst circumstances.  As the portion of Reader’s Digest is named, “Laughter is the Best Medicine.”  If our vocations become so heavy that we lose all sense of perspective, we are of little use to anyone. One saying states it so well, “Angels can fly because they take themselves so lightly.” Laughter, in an appropriate setting, can prick the balloon of seriousness and allow us to move forward, perhaps not with happiness, but at least joy.  

I have found that in this blogging, there is joy for me. I am able to organize rather convoluted and disorganized thoughts, and bring them into a cogent set of concepts.  This is an exercise of balance for me.

Fire Bells in the Night

Twenty-six years of ordained ministry have hammered home various points about this peculiar vocation.  Some are realized intuitively over time, and hopefully become part of the background wisdom that informs the exercise of ministry.  Other key points are discussed or taught openly in a variety of formal or informal settings.  It is hoped that some of those insights will be found to be authentic and, like the earlier, intuitive lessons, will be incorporated into the healthy living of vocation. 

Some have greater truth than others.  Some have a greater sense of resonance. Some are like a fire bell in the night.  

I have been fortunate to have known and worked under some very thoughtful people.  The lessons they have shared and the wisdom they have exhibited have been great gifts.  I hope some of them have stuck.  It is true, indeed, that what we do not know can hurt us.

Years ago, before I was on diocesan staff or the Commission on Ministry, I heard of the marital break-ups of three close friends, all of whom were clergy. I reflected on what I saw as the trail of wreckage left by clergy whose lives had descended into the depths.  I wrote an earnest letter expressing my concern to the chair of the Wellness Subcommittee of the Commission on Ministry.  While he and I commiserated personally on the situation, the response was much like the sound of silence that Elijah encountered outside the cave on Mount Horeb.

I recently heard other news. I learned of the deposition of a longtime friend in another diocese. Like others I have seen over the years, there was sexual misconduct involved. Some situations which have arisen in years past were hardly a surprise.  This one was truly unexpected.  But, from what I understand, the essential predictive elements were present – as it seems they always are. Warning signs are there.  But they go unheeded. Lives are ruined. A vocation is lost. Countless costs – spiritually, emotionally, vocationally, and personally – are incurred. The impact is like a meteor crater – a definitive point of impact with concentric circles of damage emanating outward from the original damage

Again and again, in various forms, the key point is conveyed: Balance is a key element in the healthy exercise of ordained ministry.  Absent that balance, an ordained person either becomes ineffective (by lack of intellectual, spiritual or vocational rigor) or, tragically, by burning-out and acting out. It is all too predictable.

The former situation (characterized by lack of engagement or connection with the congregation) is a subject for another time.  However, the imbalance which leads to destructive behavior is my topic here.

In the CREDO component focusing on Vocation, there are two elements which have a bearing on this subject and can lead, at least partly, to the slippery slope that ends in loss of vocation or vocational identity.  Those two areas of focus are Margin and Emotional Labor.

Margin has to do with “open space” which exists in our emotional, physical, financial, and time lives.  A credit score might be a good metaphor for margin.  If a priest has a metaphorical credit score of 350 in any of those four areas of margin, they are skating on thin ice.  An image of a rubber band may be helpful, too.  If the rubber band is stretched too far, it snaps.  Likewise, if we stretch ourselves too far in the areas of emotional, physical financial, or time reserves, we are in a potentially dangerous position. (Note: A helpful book on this aspect is Margin, by Richard A. Swenson, M.D.)

Emotional Labor is another potential area of peril.  This has to do, to a great extent, with hiding, disguising or minimizing emotions.  Critical to this concept are the display rules we observe (or are imposed on us in terms of expectations).  Clergy may feel elated over something about which it would be perceived as inappropriate to feel that way.  Likewise, a cleric might feel anger, sadness or any other form of emotion which might not seem to be appropriate in a particular setting. This can lead to a phenomenon known as deep acting, in which we are so separated from our true emotions, we are not aware of them at all.  This is a form of suppression, and can be dangerous to one’s wellbeing. (Note:  A good book on this subject is The Managed Heart, by Arlie Russell Hochschild.)

These two topics highlight some of the dangers of unawareness in the ordained vocation.  There are others I would highlight very briefly:

·         Overwork – Workaholism is a valued behavior for clergy by congregations. There are rewards (short-term) for the congregation and the cleric. Ultimately, though, it is destructive. Congregations tend to value an over-functioning rector.  Likewise, clergy find the approval they receive for such over-functioning is like crack cocaine – addictive, giving a sense of a high, a steadily increasing requirement for “more”, but ultimately of no value. There is likely to be an ultimate crash.

·         Isolation – When clergy become lone rangers, alarms should be sounded.  We find vitality and wholeness of life in community.  With a cleric, community will need to be more than one’s parish. A peer support group or constructive involvement in other ways with people outside the parish is important for balance. Withdrawal from wider church functions is frequently evidence of such isolation.

·         Mania – The hyperactive lifestyle should be noted. This is the behavioral and unholy whirling dervish. Life is accelerating. The high which accompanies this level of mania serves as a drug to anesthetize inner wounds.  This may sometimes be accompanied by a loss of appropriate boundaries. The cleric exhibiting these tendencies is potentially moving quickly in the direction of being “out of control.”

·         Anger – Another “mine canary” would be anger, or maybe resentment (best defined as anger with dust on it).  This may be low-grade, simmering anger.  Or it might be evidenced in outbursts that are out-of-proportion to the circumstances. The anger may sometimes be within the parish or, more likely, directed toward ecclesiastical superiors, such as the Bishop.

·         Despair – This word may be a bit too dramatic, but it captures the heart of the matter.  Sometimes clergy feel trapped and do not see a viable option for moving upward, downward, or sideways.  They may have been involved in search processes which led to dead-ends.  They do not know a way out of the circumstances.  The despair fuels the anger and isolation. Depression may set in. The fuse is lit.

·         Emptiness – The ordained vocation can be one of great depth and texture, but like a vineyard, it must be tended. I am referring to one’s spiritual journey.  Spiritual disciplines – which are so much more than the empty “pray without ceasing” – can provide a foundation below which we cannot fall.  The importance of regular, anticipated connection to the numinous helps us to maintain perspective, clear lenses through which we can comprehend our journey, and, above all, a sense of hope.  In those disciplines – even when we encounter the Ignatian experience of desolation – we discover that we are not alone in this ministry.  A reading of Romans 8 is tonic for the soul. Mindfulness and time alone in silence can be enormously restorative.

·         Addictions – These are more the result of the above – evidence that the horse is out of barn.  Addictions come in many forms – alcohol, drugs, work, spending, sex, inappropriate relationships, pornography, and gambling, among others. These are among the most significant red lights to be observed and responded to.

This listing is by no means complete or authoritative.  These are my insights gained over 26 years of ordained ministry, and they are characteristics of which I am mindful.  If I discern them in my own life – or, if, by God’s grace, someone points them out to me in my own actions – I seek to take restorative action.  If I see them in others, I want to respond in a healing, renewing, honest, and hope-filled way.

The irony in all this is that the church and its leaders have been well-aware of all the warning signs associated with these tendencies.  Yet we do little or nothing about them.  The church tends to be complicit in the denial of their significance. The person who is (hopefully) lovingly told of his or her tendencies in these areas will likely resist such insight.  He or she may be expected to become angrier and withdrawn – which is counterproductive to the desire for healing.

Sadly, the dance of denial or avoidance continues – until it all comes crashing down.  And when it does, great was the fall of lives connected and the institutions served.

What’s the peirnt?

A good friend and I have a question that we pose to each other from time-to-time:  What’s the peirnt?  It is an intentional misspelling and mispronunciation of the last word, and intended to reflect a question from old mob movies – the original and stated question being, What’s the point?

I sometimes find myself wondering that, as it relates to ordained ministry and its exercise in the parish. 

Perhaps the most dramatic illustration I can offer came in a meeting several years ago with either the vestry or search committee of a congregation (the grace of God has caused me to forget which congregation it was).  As the congregational leaders and I discussed the responsibilities and expectations of their next priest, one member said rather caustically, “I want them to pray on their own time.”

I later shared that observation with the senior priest who was then my spiritual director. His response: “That is a ditch I would die in.” His question was, What is the point?

As I work frequently with search committees and vestries, I see the always-present (but sometimes unstated) question arise again and again: What are the expectations of the new rector or vicar?

The person mentioned above clearly thought that it was not the priest’s responsibility to pray – at least on “church time.”

There is a variety of stated and unstated expectations of a cleric – some clear and expected, some unclear and unanticipated.  Some reasonable and some unreasonable. I recall on my first Sunday in one of the parishes I served that an elderly, senior member came to me after the service: “Thank you, Mr. Johnson, for not saying anything personal in your sermon.”  I knew the roots of her concern (they were well-entwined with the congregation’s history), but it was clearly an unstated expectation that I would not get too personal in my sermon.  What if someone else had been called and had been unaware?

But that is a very small example which illustrates a larger point:  There are many expectations of a parish cleric.  Such as…

… Being present in the office on a regular basis.

… Making pastoral calls as needed.

… Assuring smooth functioning of the parish office.

… Visiting newcomers soon after they visit the parish.

… Or, visiting newcomers which have expressed no interest in the parish, but someone in the parish has met them.

… Sharing information about pastoral concerns (such as someone’s hospitalization), while preserving appropriate confidences.

… Always being solemn when appropriate, and always being happy when expected.

… Seeing that adequate training is offered for lay readers, Eucharistic ministers, acolytes and others – even if attendance is not convenient for them.

… Preaching sermons that are not too long and not too short.

… Not dealing with social or political topics from the pulpit – unless the congregation largely agrees with the perspective.

… Increasing attendance by young families.

… Assuring the ongoing functioning of a multi-faceted Christian education program.

… Being responsible for the sound financial condition of the congregation (or, conversely, having nothing to do with what Will Campbell called “filthy lucre”).

… An ancillary point: Never talk about money.

… Being the “moral police” (generally directed toward “someone else”) of the congregation while saying nothing of inappropriate behavior.

 

... Growing the congregation without changing the congregation's methods of functioning or its means of relating to newcomers.

… Being available and responsive 24/7, regardless of the impact on the cleric’s family.

… And, of course, the biggy: Don’t let conflict enter the congregation and, if you do, assume responsibility for it.

Those are among the expectations I have encountered over 12+ years of working with congregations and clergy, and over 14 years of parochial ministry before that.

One of the challenges faced by many clergy is that, with unstated expectations, one person’s perspective is perceived as valid as another’s.

The fact is that priests take vows before the Bishop which summarize their responsibilities as ordained people.  Since we, as Episcopalians, articulate our theology in our prayers and liturgy, it only makes sense that the vows taken before a Bishop at ordination would articulate our understanding of the ordained ministry. The Bishop’s address to the ordinand includes the following:

As a priest, it will be your task to proclaim by word and deed the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and to fashion your life in accordance with its precepts. You are to love and serve the people among whom you work, caring alike for young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor. You are to preach, to declare God’s forgiveness to penitent sinners, to pronounce God’s blessing, to share in the administration of Holy Baptism and in the celebration of the mysteries of Christ’s Body and Blood, and to perform the other ministrations entrusted to you.

The vows, containing the essential duties of a priest, follow:

Bishop             Do you now in the presence of the Church commit                                       yourself to this trust and responsibility?

            Answer            I do.

Bishop             Will you respect and be guided by the pastoral direction 

                        and leadership of your bishop?

            Answer            I will.

Bishop             Will you be diligent in the reading and study of the                                      Holy Scriptures, and in seeking the knowledge of                                         such things as may make you a stronger and more                                                able minister of Christ?

             Answer            I will.

Bishop             Will you endeavor so to minister the Word of God                                       and the sacraments of the New Covenant, that the                                               reconciling love of Christ may be known and                                           received?

            Answer            I will.

 Bishop             Will you undertake to be a faithful pastor to all                                             whom you are called to serve, laboring together                                            with them and with your fellow ministers to build                                              up the family of God?

            Answer            I will.

 Bishop             Will you do your best to pattern your life [and that                                       of your family, or household, or community] in                                                 accordance with the teachings of Christ, so that you                                        may be a wholesome example to your people?

            Answer            I will.

Bishop             Will you persevere in prayer, both in public and in                                        private, asking God’s grace, both for yourself and for 

                        others, offering all your labors to God, through the 

                        mediation of Jesus Christ, and in the sanctification                                              of the Holy Spirit?

            Answer            I will.

Bishop             May the Lord who has given you the will to do these 

                        things give you the grace and power to perform them.

            Answer            Amen.

These vows express the essential theological raison d’etre for the priesthood, and they provide the basic job description for a priest.

But there is more:  The canons of the Episcopal Church (especially Title III, Canon 9 – Of the Life and Work of Priests) provide some meat on the bone for a priest’s functioning.  Among those duties are the following:

      ·         Seeing that people under their charge receive instructions in the Holy Scriptures; in

             the Catechism; in the Doctrine, Discipline and Worship of the Episcopal Church; and in

             “the exercise of their ministry as baptized persons.”

·         The instruction of all persons in the topics of Christian stewardship, including a reverence for God’s creation and the right use of God’s gifts; generous and consistent giving of time, talent and treasure for the mission and ministry of the Church at home and abroad; the biblical standard of the tithe for financial stewardship; and the responsibility of all persons to make a will as prescribed in The Book of Common Prayer.

·         The proper preparation and instruction for Baptismal candidates and their sponsors;

·         Similarly, candidates for Confirmation, Reception and Reaffirmation should be properly prepared;

·         To announce the scheduled visit of the Bishop;

·         To read in public worship or otherwise disseminate a Pastoral Letter from the House of Bishops;

·         To keep faithful and accurate records of all members (including those who have received communion three times in the previous year) and of baptisms, confirmations, deaths, transfers and other changes in membership status.

As you can see, the calling of a priest – including a Rector or Vicar – is largely to the nourishment and development of the spiritual life both in his or her own life and the life of those in the congregation.  This is the work of deepening the journey from which the meaning of life may emerge.

Contemporary critics of the Church write and speak about how the focus of the Church has moved more toward matters of secular life.  Those critics may be right, but from a direction they did not intend. The role of the priest has developed into one of meeting people’s expectations in what is largely a consumer culture. The expectations are frequently associated with mundane matters rather than the transformational deepening of one’s faith.

The priest is called to pray and draw deeply on his or her spiritual journey, taking the fruits of that journey to share with the congregation so that their lives might benefit from those insights. The benefits the priest derives from a deep and profound spiritual life will enrich his or her preaching, teaching and caring for God’s people.

Referring to the earlier quotation from the Vestry or search committee member: If the priest prays only on his or her own time, the congregation may very well get that for which they hope.