All Ministry is Local
a sermon preached by the Rev Dr Tim W Jensen
at the Second Congregational Meeting House on Nantucket Island
Sunday September 9th, 2001
***
Earlier this summer — June 7th, to be precise — I observed (I can't really say "celebrated") the 20th anniversary of my ordination to Unitarian Universalist ministry. And next month, on October 22nd, I will likewise "observe" my 45th birthday. So do the math. If you add in the three years I spent in Divinity School, you'll see that I have now spent over half of my life in this profession. Yet the only times I can remember clergy talking with laity in a serious fashion about "ministry" are at ordinations and installations. Now these are certainly appropriate times to talk about ministry, but given the nature of the occasion, the talk also tends to be a little one-sided. It's like expecting to learn everything you think you need to know about marriage from listening to what ministers have to say at weddings — and as anyone here who has every been married can probably attest, it's not nearly enough.
On the other hand, ministers talk with one another about the ministry A LOT. In fact, sometimes it seems like, whenever we get together, that's ALL we talk about. Like any other group of professionals, when ministers gather we like to share our "tricks of the trade." We tell "war stories" about things that have happened to us or to people we know, we talk about changes that are taking place in the profession, discuss our own understandings of our various "calls" to ministry, and even whether ministry is more accurately described as a "profession" or a "vocation." We help one another solve problems, we complain about y'all, and in general talk about ways that we can improve our effectiveness, our status, and our compensation as a distinct "guild" of educated individuals who are attempting to make our living by applying our specialized knowledge to meeting the needs and solving the problems of a larger group of "non-specialists, which is, by definition, what "professionals" do.
In fact, back in the spring of 1995, our denomination's Ministerial Association even held a continental-wide "Convocation" in Hot Springs, Arkansas specifically to address some of these issues. Over 500 UU ministers met for a week in the Ozark mountains to discuss "The Transient and the Permanent in Liberal Religion." At the Convo, all of the participants were asked to respond to the following question: "What do you (and we) personally need to minister effectively in the 21st century?" The ministers brainstormed in small groups dozens of possible answers to this question, and then voted (with little stickers) in order to select the group favorites. Far and way, the top answer was this:
1) a clear mission and a compelling vision
and then the number two answer was
2) [to] develop a culture of generosity which will provide adequate financial support for ministerial compensation, staff and technical support, facilities and buildings.
Now these answers struck me on several different levels. To begin with, despite my highly developed capacity for cynicism (I mean, lets face it, the first time I heard these responses I thought they sounded an awful lot like “we don’t really know what we’re doing, but we ought to be paid a lot more to do it”), I basically agree with my colleagues — these are the right answers.
But even more interesting to me was my recognition, as an historian, that these are essentially the same things that ministers in our tradition have been complaining about for three hundred and fifty years. Let me first give it a fancy, academic name, and then I'll tell you what it means. It's called a "hermeneutic of declension," and basically what it refers to is the belief that things are a lot worst now than they were in "The Good Old Days." We've lost our sense of purpose, we're not as committed as those who came before us, and the number one sign of this "declension," this "decline" of faith, is the shabby manner in which we treat our clergy, the most tangible manifestation of this being poor financial compensation.
This complaint goes way back in our movement — back, even, before we thought of ourselves as Unitarians or Universalists. Cotton Mather was complaining about these same things at the turn of the Seventeenth century. It's a style of historiography that has even spilled over into our political discourse. Witness folks like Pat Buchanan or Pat Robertson, complaining that we've lost touch with our "traditional family values," and urging a return to the mythical, golden age of "Christian" America, when kids could still pray in schools and God shed his grace upon fruited plains and purple mountain majesties from sea to shining sea.
But the point I want to make is this — there never was a "Golden Age." Our Alabaster cities have never gleamed undimmed by human tears, and, in many ways, things are better now than they ever have been. The hermeneutic of progress is just as strong as the hermeneutic of declension in American historiography, and in many ways just as erroneous. So for the time-being just let me remind everyone of two things. The first is that ministry — at least honest ministry — has never been a well-compensated activity, at least in terms of its financial compensation. Historically, because of the relative affluence of their parishioners, Unitarian ministers were among the best compensated of American clergy, and Universalist ministers were among the worst. And while I suppose we can always pray for a miraculous return to "the good old days" (praying is, after all, one of the things that we clergy do best), I think it's a mistake for any of us to allow our concern about that to distract us too much from the other important things we are trying to do.
And the second thing I wanted to say about this subject is that the basic mission of the church, and of its ministry, really hasn't changed much in thousands of years — the only thing that changes is the context in which it is practiced. And it is part of the role of the minister, as a religious leader, to make that mission vivid — to supply the vision that allows others to see things clearly, and then to act on what they see. In fact, you might even say that the Vision is the Mission: the purpose of the church and the role of its ministry is to help people discover the things that are ultimately meaningful and important in their lives, and then to assist them in better living their lives according to those values — in a word, to help people grow closer to God. And this mission NEVER really changes. It's just that sometimes we lose sight of what it means to live it out.
I want to shift gears for just a moment, and talk a little bit about the role of ministry in an anthropological sense. Because ministry is, after all, one of the world's two oldest profession (and it's not what you think!) But from hunters and warriors came the professional soldier, and all the ancillary occupations, such as engineering and accounting, that are devoted to the activity of "making a killing." And from shaman and healers came the priesthood, and all of the other so-called "learned" professions: law, medicine, education, and the like. The role of the minister itself can basically be divided into three components.
The first of these roles is that of the Priest. What is a Priest? A priest is someone who leads the prayers and offers sacrifices, who knows the rituals and the calendar, and acts as the symbolic head of the community as they do the things that make them a community: as they celebrate their joy together, and express their gratitude for the gift of life; and also as they mourn together, and express their sorrow at all life's losses. The role of the Priest is to embody a cultural history and cultural values: to act as an intermediary between what society holds sacred, and everything else.
Of course, our tradition is one that has historically affirmed the doctrine of "The Priesthood of All Believers," which basically asserts that each individual should enjoy a direct relationship with God, without the necessity of an intermediary priesthood. And this brings us to the second role of the ministry, which is that of the Rabbi, or scholar and teacher. This is the role that is probably the most familiar and comfortable to most of us, and therefore I will say the least about it. But it all comes back to this simple question: how does one find God (or Happiness) for oneself? A Rabbi is someone who has devoted their life to the study of this question, and who helps us to discover our own answers as well. It's not just a matter of "specialized" knowledge: a lot of arcane data and information. It also embodies a deep sense of Ethics (or the knowledge of how one should behave) and even Wisdom (which is typically the fruit of a passionate search for truth). Nor is this knowledge primarily book-knowledge. There is an important connection between ministry and mysticism: the "direct experience of that transcending wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit, and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life." The Rabbi is someone who teaches the head, the heart, and the soul how to wonder, transcendently, and to renew our spirits in the process.
This brings us to the third role of ministry, which is that of the Pastor or "Good Shepherd." A Pastor is basically the companion or friend who stands by you and with you when bad things happen, so that you don't have to face them alone. And it is at this point that we can start to understand how the three roles work together. Pastor is the other side of the Priest: if the role of the Priest is to represent the community before God, then the role of the Pastor is to represent the living and real presence of God within the community, while it is the Rabbinical role of constantly seeking the knowledge and experience of God that hold these things together in creative tension.
The Pastoral role itself is basically three-fold in its own right. The first job of the Pastor is to be a comforter and encourager. This is the part of the pastoral ministry that everyone appreciates, and which can easily burn one out; because the simple fact of the matter is that, while a Pastor may stand in as a representative of God, a Pastor is obviously NOT God — the Pastor is at best a very poor substitute for God, but in times of crisis, you've pretty much got to go with what you've got. But it is also the role of the Pastor to "admonish and rebuke," to let people know when they're heading down the WRONG path, so that they can turn around before it's too late. And this is the part of the Pastoral Role that everyone hates, including the Pastor, because it is really very isolating and uncomfortable to have to act in a way that is really rather confrontational, and not very likely to be perceived in a particularly endearing manner. So, to "Comfort the Afflicted" and "Afflict the Comfortable.…" and then there is the third component of the Pastoral role, which is basically to set a good example: to be a role model, be a witness, look at the world through eyes that are no longer worldly, and then live your faith in such a way that other people can see what you see in the way that you are.
So here we have the three distinct, yet interrelated, roles of ministry: the Pastor, the Rabbi, and the Priest. It kind of sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke I once heard. But there is still another component to be considered, and that is the component of the Church itself. It is simply impossible to imagine the ministry without the church. Think back to that basic definition I spoke of earlier: "helping people grow closer to God." Who are those people? Those people are the church — in Greek, literally, ecclesia — those who have been "called out from" society as a whole in order to create a religious community dedicated to the worship and service of the sacred. Thus the church as an institution always has something of a dual nature. On one hand, a church embodies a particular culture and its values, yet it is also implicitly critical of those cultural values, and thus typically exists at some level of tension with the larger society in which it resides. At the center of the church is its sense of Fellowship or koinonia — the things its members hold in common. And from this comes eventually a sense of service or ministry, embodied in an understanding of its mission to the wider world, — a mission based on a vision of how things might be different if the values of the church were more widely shared.
There is a similar tension that exists within the professional ministry, which is why I have chosen as the title of this sermon: "All Ministry is Local.” Is the basic loyalty of a parish minister to the people they serve, or to the standards of their profession? The easy answer to this question is obviously "Both." But try finding that perfect balance in real life. It's a common problem in all professions. Standards of practice often conflict with the desires of the clients. If you deviate from the standards, you are considered unethical; but if you don't satisfy the client, you don't get paid. I am reminded of something John D. Rockefeller supposedly once said to his attorney: "I don't pay you to tell me what I can and cannot do. I pay you to tell me how to do what I want to do!" (and presumably stay out of jail while doing it). Yet even "zealous advocates" like attorneys have limitations on what they can and cannot do in order to represent their clients. True professionals are supposedly disinterested "experts" who apply their specialized knowledge, their "expertise," for the benefit of their clients according to the recognized standards of the profession. They maintain their integrity by maintaining a monopoly: if you want the job done, you have to do it their way.
Yet this notion of "professionalism" is in many ways antithetical to both the idea and the ideal of ministry. The whole idea of ministry is that you give knowledge away, you try to spread it around as widely as possible. Ministry is something churches do as a group, and the minister is merely someone who hangs around to try to make things go smoothly. Now don't get me wrong: I believe in the standards of professional ministry, and I know we have expertise that can make our churches more effective, and enhance the lives of all who participate them. But I also recognize that ministers are not individuals who are set apart from the group by virtue of their profession, but rather must share and participate in the common life of the group in order to be most effective in their professional role. And this is why I would assert that All Ministry is Local; and it is also why most ministers (that is to say, "honest" ministers) will never be rich. It's built right into the nature of the job, in which the leader must also be the servant of all. When authority derives from the power of love (rather than the assertion of the love of power) is only through the generosity of those with whom we work that allows us to make a living at this at all, and it is only with their help and cooperation that we are able to effectively meet our professional responsibilities.
I want to talk for just a moment about the UU Ministry as a profession, just to give you a little insight into what this job looks like from the other side, and also maybe discourage any of you who were possibly thinking of going to Divinity School yourselves. As I mentioned earlier, I've been doing this now for 20 years, and in October I'll turn 45 years old. Even so, the last time I checked approximately 80% of all UU ministers were older than I am. Not all of them have been doing this as long as I have; in fact, most folks now come to ministry as a second career. The are now approximately 1040 congregations in the UUA, but only about 700 of these societies really have sufficient resources to support a full-time minister. Perhaps 10% of of these congregations are searching for a new minister any given time. We now have over 1300 ministers in Fellowship, with perhaps another 500 "in training" at various Divinity Schools around the country. So again, do the math: there are approximately twice as many ministers as jobs in our denomination, and as many as 10 potential candidates for every actual opening.
Back when my friend and Harvard classmate Dan Hotchkiss was Settlement Director at the UUA Department of Ministry, he would tell graduating divinity students that if they were willing to relocate anywhere in the country, and work for what was then the minimum recommended salary of $24,000/year (exclusive of benefits, which vary widely from congregation to congregation), he could pretty much guarantee them a job within a year and a half, even though it may turn out to be only a temporary, one-year interim position (such as this one). If you needed more money than that, or had other geographic restrictions, such as shared custody of children or a spouse whose career wasn't particularly mobile, your chances of finding a regular settlement dropped off dramatically. Moreover, there's this to consider. Of the seventy-some vacancies that do occur each year, about one-half of those are the result of the involuntary termination of the previous minister! Approximately one-fourth of all ministers will be fired at some point in their career, often for reasons that have far more to do with pre-existing dynamics within the congregation than anything involving their professional competence; and of those who are fired, approximately 10% will never return to the profession again. For those who do stick with it, only about one-third will ever earn as much as the median income of their parishioners. In fact, when I was in seminary, this fact was the inspiration for a popular joke: that the reason UU Churches hire ministers at all was in order to "have a meaningful, face-to-face relationship with someone from a lower socio-economic class."
But this is the "Profession" of parish ministry in the 21st century: long hours, low pay, little job security and a tight job market. Three years of graduate school and a year-long internship, then an eighteen-month wait for a chance at a $24,000/year job, with spotty benefits. Is it any wonder that people are starting to suggest that no one wise enough to do it well is foolish enough to do it long? And yet, when we think of Parish Ministry as a Vocation, we see a very different picture. Because this is a job that offers a very nice combination of working with ideas and working with people, which provides ample opportunities for self-development, which gives you a lot of control over your time (although never quite enough time to go around!), and which above all else, really does offer a wonderful chance to make a difference by what you do, to have a real impact both on the lives of people, and on the society in which they live.
I share this information with you in part simply because I want to encourage you that there are a lot of talented ministers out there, and to assure you that the most difficult task your search committee faces in the coming months will be selecting from among the many excellent potential candidates the one individual they feel best suited to the unique circumstances of this particular community and congregation. But I also want to encourage you to begin thinking about this process in a slightly different way than maybe you’ve thought about it before. In calling and settling a new parish minister, you are doing something much more involved than merely hiring a new professional employee to undertake the “usual and customary duties” of a parish minister. In a very real sense, you will be entering into a partnership with someone who will utilize their unique skills, knowledge, and professional "expertise," in order to teach you and guide you and lead you by example as you work together to create a new and dynamic ministry for this church here in the 21st century. Your shared vision of this church’s compelling mission, combined with your own spirit of generosity and cooperation, are the essential ingredients which will enable your next minister to be as successful in their ministry here as your retired minister has been. Because this ministry really is your ministry, and it will never be truly effective without your active participation and support.
I've sometimes heard it suggested that one reason that our society no longer look to the ministry for leadership the way that it used to is because people no longer really believe in God. Yet is seems to me that if this is true, then we need wise and insightful professional ministers now more than ever. Disasters which we have traditionally attributed to the Divine — Famine, War, Pestilence and Death — we are now fully capable of bringing on ourselves. We NEED an awareness of the things we hold sacred in order to save us from our own inhumanity. This is the real mission of the modern church and its ministry: to help humanity see a better way, and to inspire us to act generously to bring it about, not only for ourselves, but for all with whom we share this planet.
***
Reading: from "Theodore Parker's Experience as a Minister." [adapted]
After my general preliminary education was pretty well advanced, the hour came when I must decide on my profession for life. All about me there were ministers who had sufficient talents; now and then one admirably endowed with learning; devout and humane souls also, with no stain on their personal character. But I did not see much in the clerical profession to attract me thither; the notorious dulness of the Sunday services, their mechanical character, the poverty and insignificance of the sermons, the unnaturalness and uncertainty of the doctrines preached…the lifelessness of the public prayers, and the consequent heedlessness of the congregation, all tended to turn a young person off from becoming a minister. Besides, it did not appear that the New England clergy were leaders in the intellectual, moral, or religious progress of the people; if they tried to seem so, it was only the appearance which was kept up. "Do you think our minister would dare tell his audience of their actual faults?" — so a rough blacksmith once asked in my youth. "Certainly I do!" was the boyish answer. "Humph!" rejoined the Smith, "I should like to have him begin, then!" The genius of Emerson soon moved from the clerical constellation and stood forth along, a fixed and solitary star. Dr. Channing was the only man in the New England pulpit who seemed to me great. All my friends advised me against the ministry — it was "a narrow place, affording no opportunity to do much!" I thought it a wide place.
The legal profession seemed to have many attractions. There were eminent individuals in its ranks, rising to public honors, judicial or political; they seemed to have more freedom and individuality than the ministers. For some time I hesitated, inclined that way, and made preliminary studies in the Law. But at length the perils of that profession seemed greater than I cared to rush upon. Mistaking sound for sense, I thought the lawyers' moral tone was lower than the ministers', and dared not put myself under that temptation I prayed God not to lead me into. I could not make up my mind to defend a cause I knew to be wrong, using all my efforts to lead a judge or jury to a decision I thought unjust.…I saw lawyers of large talents yielding to that temptation, and counting as a great success what to me even then seemed only great ruin. I could not decide to set up a Law-mill beside the public road, to put my hand on the winch, and, by turning one way, rob the innocent of their property, liberty, life; or, by reversing the motion, withdraw the guilty from just punishment, pecuniary or corporeal. Though I hesitated some time, soon as I got clearness of sight, I returned to my first love, for that seemed free from guile.… I determined to become a minister, hoping to help humankind in the most important of all human concerns, the development of our highest powers.
at the Second Congregational Meeting House on Nantucket Island
Sunday September 9th, 2001
***
Earlier this summer — June 7th, to be precise — I observed (I can't really say "celebrated") the 20th anniversary of my ordination to Unitarian Universalist ministry. And next month, on October 22nd, I will likewise "observe" my 45th birthday. So do the math. If you add in the three years I spent in Divinity School, you'll see that I have now spent over half of my life in this profession. Yet the only times I can remember clergy talking with laity in a serious fashion about "ministry" are at ordinations and installations. Now these are certainly appropriate times to talk about ministry, but given the nature of the occasion, the talk also tends to be a little one-sided. It's like expecting to learn everything you think you need to know about marriage from listening to what ministers have to say at weddings — and as anyone here who has every been married can probably attest, it's not nearly enough.
On the other hand, ministers talk with one another about the ministry A LOT. In fact, sometimes it seems like, whenever we get together, that's ALL we talk about. Like any other group of professionals, when ministers gather we like to share our "tricks of the trade." We tell "war stories" about things that have happened to us or to people we know, we talk about changes that are taking place in the profession, discuss our own understandings of our various "calls" to ministry, and even whether ministry is more accurately described as a "profession" or a "vocation." We help one another solve problems, we complain about y'all, and in general talk about ways that we can improve our effectiveness, our status, and our compensation as a distinct "guild" of educated individuals who are attempting to make our living by applying our specialized knowledge to meeting the needs and solving the problems of a larger group of "non-specialists, which is, by definition, what "professionals" do.
In fact, back in the spring of 1995, our denomination's Ministerial Association even held a continental-wide "Convocation" in Hot Springs, Arkansas specifically to address some of these issues. Over 500 UU ministers met for a week in the Ozark mountains to discuss "The Transient and the Permanent in Liberal Religion." At the Convo, all of the participants were asked to respond to the following question: "What do you (and we) personally need to minister effectively in the 21st century?" The ministers brainstormed in small groups dozens of possible answers to this question, and then voted (with little stickers) in order to select the group favorites. Far and way, the top answer was this:
1) a clear mission and a compelling vision
and then the number two answer was
2) [to] develop a culture of generosity which will provide adequate financial support for ministerial compensation, staff and technical support, facilities and buildings.
Now these answers struck me on several different levels. To begin with, despite my highly developed capacity for cynicism (I mean, lets face it, the first time I heard these responses I thought they sounded an awful lot like “we don’t really know what we’re doing, but we ought to be paid a lot more to do it”), I basically agree with my colleagues — these are the right answers.
But even more interesting to me was my recognition, as an historian, that these are essentially the same things that ministers in our tradition have been complaining about for three hundred and fifty years. Let me first give it a fancy, academic name, and then I'll tell you what it means. It's called a "hermeneutic of declension," and basically what it refers to is the belief that things are a lot worst now than they were in "The Good Old Days." We've lost our sense of purpose, we're not as committed as those who came before us, and the number one sign of this "declension," this "decline" of faith, is the shabby manner in which we treat our clergy, the most tangible manifestation of this being poor financial compensation.
This complaint goes way back in our movement — back, even, before we thought of ourselves as Unitarians or Universalists. Cotton Mather was complaining about these same things at the turn of the Seventeenth century. It's a style of historiography that has even spilled over into our political discourse. Witness folks like Pat Buchanan or Pat Robertson, complaining that we've lost touch with our "traditional family values," and urging a return to the mythical, golden age of "Christian" America, when kids could still pray in schools and God shed his grace upon fruited plains and purple mountain majesties from sea to shining sea.
But the point I want to make is this — there never was a "Golden Age." Our Alabaster cities have never gleamed undimmed by human tears, and, in many ways, things are better now than they ever have been. The hermeneutic of progress is just as strong as the hermeneutic of declension in American historiography, and in many ways just as erroneous. So for the time-being just let me remind everyone of two things. The first is that ministry — at least honest ministry — has never been a well-compensated activity, at least in terms of its financial compensation. Historically, because of the relative affluence of their parishioners, Unitarian ministers were among the best compensated of American clergy, and Universalist ministers were among the worst. And while I suppose we can always pray for a miraculous return to "the good old days" (praying is, after all, one of the things that we clergy do best), I think it's a mistake for any of us to allow our concern about that to distract us too much from the other important things we are trying to do.
And the second thing I wanted to say about this subject is that the basic mission of the church, and of its ministry, really hasn't changed much in thousands of years — the only thing that changes is the context in which it is practiced. And it is part of the role of the minister, as a religious leader, to make that mission vivid — to supply the vision that allows others to see things clearly, and then to act on what they see. In fact, you might even say that the Vision is the Mission: the purpose of the church and the role of its ministry is to help people discover the things that are ultimately meaningful and important in their lives, and then to assist them in better living their lives according to those values — in a word, to help people grow closer to God. And this mission NEVER really changes. It's just that sometimes we lose sight of what it means to live it out.
I want to shift gears for just a moment, and talk a little bit about the role of ministry in an anthropological sense. Because ministry is, after all, one of the world's two oldest profession (and it's not what you think!) But from hunters and warriors came the professional soldier, and all the ancillary occupations, such as engineering and accounting, that are devoted to the activity of "making a killing." And from shaman and healers came the priesthood, and all of the other so-called "learned" professions: law, medicine, education, and the like. The role of the minister itself can basically be divided into three components.
The first of these roles is that of the Priest. What is a Priest? A priest is someone who leads the prayers and offers sacrifices, who knows the rituals and the calendar, and acts as the symbolic head of the community as they do the things that make them a community: as they celebrate their joy together, and express their gratitude for the gift of life; and also as they mourn together, and express their sorrow at all life's losses. The role of the Priest is to embody a cultural history and cultural values: to act as an intermediary between what society holds sacred, and everything else.
Of course, our tradition is one that has historically affirmed the doctrine of "The Priesthood of All Believers," which basically asserts that each individual should enjoy a direct relationship with God, without the necessity of an intermediary priesthood. And this brings us to the second role of the ministry, which is that of the Rabbi, or scholar and teacher. This is the role that is probably the most familiar and comfortable to most of us, and therefore I will say the least about it. But it all comes back to this simple question: how does one find God (or Happiness) for oneself? A Rabbi is someone who has devoted their life to the study of this question, and who helps us to discover our own answers as well. It's not just a matter of "specialized" knowledge: a lot of arcane data and information. It also embodies a deep sense of Ethics (or the knowledge of how one should behave) and even Wisdom (which is typically the fruit of a passionate search for truth). Nor is this knowledge primarily book-knowledge. There is an important connection between ministry and mysticism: the "direct experience of that transcending wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit, and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life." The Rabbi is someone who teaches the head, the heart, and the soul how to wonder, transcendently, and to renew our spirits in the process.
This brings us to the third role of ministry, which is that of the Pastor or "Good Shepherd." A Pastor is basically the companion or friend who stands by you and with you when bad things happen, so that you don't have to face them alone. And it is at this point that we can start to understand how the three roles work together. Pastor is the other side of the Priest: if the role of the Priest is to represent the community before God, then the role of the Pastor is to represent the living and real presence of God within the community, while it is the Rabbinical role of constantly seeking the knowledge and experience of God that hold these things together in creative tension.
The Pastoral role itself is basically three-fold in its own right. The first job of the Pastor is to be a comforter and encourager. This is the part of the pastoral ministry that everyone appreciates, and which can easily burn one out; because the simple fact of the matter is that, while a Pastor may stand in as a representative of God, a Pastor is obviously NOT God — the Pastor is at best a very poor substitute for God, but in times of crisis, you've pretty much got to go with what you've got. But it is also the role of the Pastor to "admonish and rebuke," to let people know when they're heading down the WRONG path, so that they can turn around before it's too late. And this is the part of the Pastoral Role that everyone hates, including the Pastor, because it is really very isolating and uncomfortable to have to act in a way that is really rather confrontational, and not very likely to be perceived in a particularly endearing manner. So, to "Comfort the Afflicted" and "Afflict the Comfortable.…" and then there is the third component of the Pastoral role, which is basically to set a good example: to be a role model, be a witness, look at the world through eyes that are no longer worldly, and then live your faith in such a way that other people can see what you see in the way that you are.
So here we have the three distinct, yet interrelated, roles of ministry: the Pastor, the Rabbi, and the Priest. It kind of sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke I once heard. But there is still another component to be considered, and that is the component of the Church itself. It is simply impossible to imagine the ministry without the church. Think back to that basic definition I spoke of earlier: "helping people grow closer to God." Who are those people? Those people are the church — in Greek, literally, ecclesia — those who have been "called out from" society as a whole in order to create a religious community dedicated to the worship and service of the sacred. Thus the church as an institution always has something of a dual nature. On one hand, a church embodies a particular culture and its values, yet it is also implicitly critical of those cultural values, and thus typically exists at some level of tension with the larger society in which it resides. At the center of the church is its sense of Fellowship or koinonia — the things its members hold in common. And from this comes eventually a sense of service or ministry, embodied in an understanding of its mission to the wider world, — a mission based on a vision of how things might be different if the values of the church were more widely shared.
There is a similar tension that exists within the professional ministry, which is why I have chosen as the title of this sermon: "All Ministry is Local.” Is the basic loyalty of a parish minister to the people they serve, or to the standards of their profession? The easy answer to this question is obviously "Both." But try finding that perfect balance in real life. It's a common problem in all professions. Standards of practice often conflict with the desires of the clients. If you deviate from the standards, you are considered unethical; but if you don't satisfy the client, you don't get paid. I am reminded of something John D. Rockefeller supposedly once said to his attorney: "I don't pay you to tell me what I can and cannot do. I pay you to tell me how to do what I want to do!" (and presumably stay out of jail while doing it). Yet even "zealous advocates" like attorneys have limitations on what they can and cannot do in order to represent their clients. True professionals are supposedly disinterested "experts" who apply their specialized knowledge, their "expertise," for the benefit of their clients according to the recognized standards of the profession. They maintain their integrity by maintaining a monopoly: if you want the job done, you have to do it their way.
Yet this notion of "professionalism" is in many ways antithetical to both the idea and the ideal of ministry. The whole idea of ministry is that you give knowledge away, you try to spread it around as widely as possible. Ministry is something churches do as a group, and the minister is merely someone who hangs around to try to make things go smoothly. Now don't get me wrong: I believe in the standards of professional ministry, and I know we have expertise that can make our churches more effective, and enhance the lives of all who participate them. But I also recognize that ministers are not individuals who are set apart from the group by virtue of their profession, but rather must share and participate in the common life of the group in order to be most effective in their professional role. And this is why I would assert that All Ministry is Local; and it is also why most ministers (that is to say, "honest" ministers) will never be rich. It's built right into the nature of the job, in which the leader must also be the servant of all. When authority derives from the power of love (rather than the assertion of the love of power) is only through the generosity of those with whom we work that allows us to make a living at this at all, and it is only with their help and cooperation that we are able to effectively meet our professional responsibilities.
I want to talk for just a moment about the UU Ministry as a profession, just to give you a little insight into what this job looks like from the other side, and also maybe discourage any of you who were possibly thinking of going to Divinity School yourselves. As I mentioned earlier, I've been doing this now for 20 years, and in October I'll turn 45 years old. Even so, the last time I checked approximately 80% of all UU ministers were older than I am. Not all of them have been doing this as long as I have; in fact, most folks now come to ministry as a second career. The are now approximately 1040 congregations in the UUA, but only about 700 of these societies really have sufficient resources to support a full-time minister. Perhaps 10% of of these congregations are searching for a new minister any given time. We now have over 1300 ministers in Fellowship, with perhaps another 500 "in training" at various Divinity Schools around the country. So again, do the math: there are approximately twice as many ministers as jobs in our denomination, and as many as 10 potential candidates for every actual opening.
Back when my friend and Harvard classmate Dan Hotchkiss was Settlement Director at the UUA Department of Ministry, he would tell graduating divinity students that if they were willing to relocate anywhere in the country, and work for what was then the minimum recommended salary of $24,000/year (exclusive of benefits, which vary widely from congregation to congregation), he could pretty much guarantee them a job within a year and a half, even though it may turn out to be only a temporary, one-year interim position (such as this one). If you needed more money than that, or had other geographic restrictions, such as shared custody of children or a spouse whose career wasn't particularly mobile, your chances of finding a regular settlement dropped off dramatically. Moreover, there's this to consider. Of the seventy-some vacancies that do occur each year, about one-half of those are the result of the involuntary termination of the previous minister! Approximately one-fourth of all ministers will be fired at some point in their career, often for reasons that have far more to do with pre-existing dynamics within the congregation than anything involving their professional competence; and of those who are fired, approximately 10% will never return to the profession again. For those who do stick with it, only about one-third will ever earn as much as the median income of their parishioners. In fact, when I was in seminary, this fact was the inspiration for a popular joke: that the reason UU Churches hire ministers at all was in order to "have a meaningful, face-to-face relationship with someone from a lower socio-economic class."
But this is the "Profession" of parish ministry in the 21st century: long hours, low pay, little job security and a tight job market. Three years of graduate school and a year-long internship, then an eighteen-month wait for a chance at a $24,000/year job, with spotty benefits. Is it any wonder that people are starting to suggest that no one wise enough to do it well is foolish enough to do it long? And yet, when we think of Parish Ministry as a Vocation, we see a very different picture. Because this is a job that offers a very nice combination of working with ideas and working with people, which provides ample opportunities for self-development, which gives you a lot of control over your time (although never quite enough time to go around!), and which above all else, really does offer a wonderful chance to make a difference by what you do, to have a real impact both on the lives of people, and on the society in which they live.
I share this information with you in part simply because I want to encourage you that there are a lot of talented ministers out there, and to assure you that the most difficult task your search committee faces in the coming months will be selecting from among the many excellent potential candidates the one individual they feel best suited to the unique circumstances of this particular community and congregation. But I also want to encourage you to begin thinking about this process in a slightly different way than maybe you’ve thought about it before. In calling and settling a new parish minister, you are doing something much more involved than merely hiring a new professional employee to undertake the “usual and customary duties” of a parish minister. In a very real sense, you will be entering into a partnership with someone who will utilize their unique skills, knowledge, and professional "expertise," in order to teach you and guide you and lead you by example as you work together to create a new and dynamic ministry for this church here in the 21st century. Your shared vision of this church’s compelling mission, combined with your own spirit of generosity and cooperation, are the essential ingredients which will enable your next minister to be as successful in their ministry here as your retired minister has been. Because this ministry really is your ministry, and it will never be truly effective without your active participation and support.
I've sometimes heard it suggested that one reason that our society no longer look to the ministry for leadership the way that it used to is because people no longer really believe in God. Yet is seems to me that if this is true, then we need wise and insightful professional ministers now more than ever. Disasters which we have traditionally attributed to the Divine — Famine, War, Pestilence and Death — we are now fully capable of bringing on ourselves. We NEED an awareness of the things we hold sacred in order to save us from our own inhumanity. This is the real mission of the modern church and its ministry: to help humanity see a better way, and to inspire us to act generously to bring it about, not only for ourselves, but for all with whom we share this planet.
***
Reading: from "Theodore Parker's Experience as a Minister." [adapted]
After my general preliminary education was pretty well advanced, the hour came when I must decide on my profession for life. All about me there were ministers who had sufficient talents; now and then one admirably endowed with learning; devout and humane souls also, with no stain on their personal character. But I did not see much in the clerical profession to attract me thither; the notorious dulness of the Sunday services, their mechanical character, the poverty and insignificance of the sermons, the unnaturalness and uncertainty of the doctrines preached…the lifelessness of the public prayers, and the consequent heedlessness of the congregation, all tended to turn a young person off from becoming a minister. Besides, it did not appear that the New England clergy were leaders in the intellectual, moral, or religious progress of the people; if they tried to seem so, it was only the appearance which was kept up. "Do you think our minister would dare tell his audience of their actual faults?" — so a rough blacksmith once asked in my youth. "Certainly I do!" was the boyish answer. "Humph!" rejoined the Smith, "I should like to have him begin, then!" The genius of Emerson soon moved from the clerical constellation and stood forth along, a fixed and solitary star. Dr. Channing was the only man in the New England pulpit who seemed to me great. All my friends advised me against the ministry — it was "a narrow place, affording no opportunity to do much!" I thought it a wide place.
The legal profession seemed to have many attractions. There were eminent individuals in its ranks, rising to public honors, judicial or political; they seemed to have more freedom and individuality than the ministers. For some time I hesitated, inclined that way, and made preliminary studies in the Law. But at length the perils of that profession seemed greater than I cared to rush upon. Mistaking sound for sense, I thought the lawyers' moral tone was lower than the ministers', and dared not put myself under that temptation I prayed God not to lead me into. I could not make up my mind to defend a cause I knew to be wrong, using all my efforts to lead a judge or jury to a decision I thought unjust.…I saw lawyers of large talents yielding to that temptation, and counting as a great success what to me even then seemed only great ruin. I could not decide to set up a Law-mill beside the public road, to put my hand on the winch, and, by turning one way, rob the innocent of their property, liberty, life; or, by reversing the motion, withdraw the guilty from just punishment, pecuniary or corporeal. Though I hesitated some time, soon as I got clearness of sight, I returned to my first love, for that seemed free from guile.… I determined to become a minister, hoping to help humankind in the most important of all human concerns, the development of our highest powers.
posted by The Eclectic Cleric at 2:40 PM
