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By Dr. Bruce T. Marshall
October 9,, 2011
Readings on Ministry
Who is a Unitarian Universalist minister? A Unitarian Universalist
minister is a man or a woman who is never completely satisfied,
never completely adjusted or adjustable, who walks in two worlds:
one of things as they are, the other of things as they ought to
be—and loves them both.
He is a man with a pincushion soul and an elastic heart, who sits
with the happy and the sad in a chaotic pattern of laugh, cry,
laugh, cry. And he knows deep down that the first time his laughter
is false, or his tears make-believe, his days as a real minister are
over.
She is a woman with dreams she can never wholly share, partly
because she has some doubts about them herself and partly because
she is unable adequately to explain, describe, or define what it is
she thinks she sees and understands.
A Unitarian Universalist minister is a person who continually runs
out of time, out of wisdom, out of ability, out of courage and out
of money. He is hurtable. Her tasks involve great responsibility and
little power. He must learn to accept people where they are and go
on from there. She must never try to exercise influence she does not
possess. If he is worth his salt, he knows all this, and is still
thankful every day of his life for the privilege of being what he
is.
The future of the liberal church is almost totally dependent on
these two factors: great congregations (whether large or small), and
skilled, effective, dedicated ministers. The strangest feature of
their relationship is that they create one another.
Jack Mendelsohn, adapted from Why I Am a Unitarian Universalist
Ministry is a quality of relationship between and among human beings
that beckons forth hidden possibilities. It is inviting people into
deeper, more constant, more reverent relationship with the world and
with one another. Ministry is carrying forward a long heritage of
hope and liberation that has dignified and informed the human
venture over many centuries. It is being present with others in
their terrors and torments, in their grief and pain, knowing that
those feelings are our feelings too. Ministry is celebrating the
triumphs of the human spirit, the miracles of birth and life, the
wonders of devotion and sacrifice. It is witnessing to life
enhancing values, speaking truth to power, standing for human
dignity and equity; for compassion and for aspiration.
Ministry is believing in life in the presence of death, struggling
for human responsibility against principalities and powers in
institutions and structures that ignore humaneness and become
instruments of death. It is all these and much, much more than all
of them, present in the wordless, the unspoken, the ineffable. It is
speaking and living the highest we know, and living with the
knowledge that it is never as deep, as wide, or as high as we wish.
Wherever there is a meeting that summons us to our better selves,
wherever our lostness is found, our fragments are reunited, our
wounds begin healing, our spines straighten, and our muscles grow
strong for the walk, there is ministry.
Gordon B. McKeeman
Sermon
When I am in the office here at Davies, I get a lot of telephone
calls. But most of them are not for me.
Let me explain. The person at the other end of the call starts by
asking to speak with the minister. Why does this individual want the
minister? Because he or she is trying to sell something to the
church. Maybe it’s a “free” termite inspection. Maybe it’s software
to keep track of church finances. Maybe it’s a great deal on paper,
markers, and ink cartridges. Maybe it’s a new curriculum for what
they always call “Christian education.” Maybe it’s an opportunity to
participate in an area-wide evangelism program.
The salesperson assumes that the minister is the go-to person for
all of this, but I’m not. I don’t have the authority to make a
purchase or authorize an institutional commitment in any of these
realms. If I were to do it right, I would direct the termite calls
to operations, the finance calls to the treasurer, the office
supplies calls to the administrator, the curriculum calls to the RE
committee, and the evangelism calls to the public relations
committee. Often I don’t do this; I just say “no” and that’s that.
Actually, though, I don’t have the authority to say “no,” and I
certainly don’t have the authority to say “yes” to any of these
pitches. But the people at the other end of the line almost never
believe that.
Welcome to the wonderful world of Unitarian Universalist polity.
Specifically, the role of the minister in congregations of our
institutional heritage.
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Throughout this year we are considering elements of Unitarian
Universalist polity, that is, how we are organized as
congregations—the procedures we follow to do the work of the church,
how we govern ourselves. Congregations of different histories and
heritages can have quite different polities. Ours stretches back at
least 400 years, and it grounds us in a set of assumptions about the
nature of the religious community. It prescribes how we are in
relationship with each other; it offers ways of addressing the
challenges that come before us.
I started this occasional series last month with a sermon on the
topic of congregational polity. That is, the form of church
organization in which the primary seat of authority is the
individual congregation—not a central organization, not a creedal
structure, not a professional ruling class—but a congregation: a
group of individuals who come together of their own free will to
create a religious community. I cited a document called The
Cambridge Platform, created in the year 1648 in Cambridge,
Massachusetts. Its purpose was to prescribe the form of organization
that would be followed by churches founded by the Pilgrims and the
Puritans. The ministers who gathered to create this statement were
sensitive to the dangers of centralization in church organization
and so they created a radically decentralized form of governance. We
call it congregational polity, guided by the principle that each
congregation is independent, the center of authority. The essential
“glue” that holds a congregation together is the covenant, that is,
the agreement of a group of people to create a religious community.
As it is put in The Cambridge Platform: we freely and mutually
covenant to walk together.
This form of organization suggests a role for the minister different
from that in congregations of other polities. It’s a role that can
be confusing to congregation members, particularly those that have
come from other faith traditions. It’s a role that can be confusing
to the ministers, themselves. And it’s a role that can be completely
mystifying to somebody calling the church, trying to sell us office
supplies. That role can be summarized in the negative with a simple
sentence which is, “I (the minister) don’t run the joint.” In
congregational polity, the minister has very little power built into
the structure. But the minister can have an enormous amount of
influence. Understanding that difference—between the power you don’t
have and the influence you do have—can be the difference between a
successful ministry and one that runs aground.
In the churches formed by the Pilgrims and the Puritans in colonial
America, ministers were chosen from within the congregation. This
was before there were explicit educational requirements and even
before there was much in the way of resources for the training of
ministers. The congregation looked to its own and chose someone who
appeared to have the gifts of ministry. He (it was always a “he”
back then) would be ordained, named as minister to that specific
congregation, and he would serve that church for life. When it was
time for a new minister, the congregation would choose another of
its own to carry on. You will note, then, that the authorization to
serve as a minister came from the congregation, itself.
It was sort of like a bee hive, I think. All female baby bees are
the same. But when a queen is needed, one of these babies is chosen
by the worker bees to be fed with a special diet rich in royal jelly
that transforms that average baby bee into a queen. The Puritan and
Pilgrim congregations of New England followed essentially that same
practice. (Indeed, a bee hive might also be said to have
congregational polity. Each is independent. Each runs itself. Each
chooses leadership from within.)
Over time, this system of choosing ministers from within the
congregation began to break down. Such as, a congregation needed a
minister. Maybe this was a big church in a city like Boston. A lot
would be riding on securing a new minister with significant gifts.
Maybe there wasn’t anybody in the congregation at the time who
seemed a likely candidate and/or maybe there wasn’t anybody who
really wanted the job. And maybe the elders of the church noticed
that a minister serving a small congregation in a small town outside
of Boston was doing rather well. So how about asking him, rather
than starting from scratch? When ministers began to move from one
church to another, we had the beginnings of a professionalized
ministry. Over time, one’s sense of being a minister developed a
life of its own, beyond the association with a particular
congregation. Ministry became a profession with specific education
requirements, standards, skills—which is what we have today.
But even though ministry has changed in the 400 years between The
Cambridge Platform and the present, there are still remnants. The
essential values are still in place. So, for example, ministers in
our tradition have never acquired the institutional power that is
accorded, say, a priest in the Roman Catholic tradition or, say, a
Presbyterian, Methodist, or AME minister. Our authority comes from
and is based in the local congregation.
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Those who find themselves drawn to the ministry are an unusual group
of people. That’s putting it as gently as I know how. The word “odd”
also comes to mind, but I don’t think I should go there.
One thing that makes us unusual is that there is a certain tension
between the worlds we occupy. On the one hand, yes, we are called by
the local congregation, we work for the local congregation, our
authority comes from the local congregation. But there is more to it
than that.
This is the world of something “more” that the authors of the two
readings this morning were trying to get at. What is a minister in
the liberal church tradition? Not just an employee of the church who
does the work as defined by the congregation. But also one who feels
the call of deeper truth, more encompassing wisdom.
So as expressed by Jack Mendelsohn: A Unitarian Universalist
minister is a person who is never completely satisfied, never
completely adjusted, who walks in two worlds: one of things as they
are, the other of things as they ought to be. “She is a (person)
with dreams she can never wholly share, partly because she has some
doubts about them herself and partly because she is unable
adequately to explain, describe, or define what it is she thinks she
sees and understands.”
There is a dimension to ministry that seeks to discern what is holy
in life, that is transformative, that calls us to do and be more
than we have been. There is a sense of witnessing to something you
cannot fully describe but that pulls you toward what is right and
true. There might be a sense of participating in a force of life
that is present in moments of sorrow and joy, moments of anguish and
moments of beauty—a force of life that sanctifies the present and
draws us into the future. An awareness of the sacred at the center
of our lives characterizes those who are drawn to the ministry as is
a need to honor that dimension of being.
So when you call a minister to this congregation, you are not hiring
that person to do a specific job that can be fully covered in a job
description. You are authorizing this individual to do ministry in
the name of this congregation. You are authorizing this person to be
attentive to the call of the spirit as he or she experiences it.
I realize that I am venturing into language that might not be
entirely comfortable to Unitarian Universalists so while I’m at it,
might as well put the whole thing out there. The minister, to be
true to his or her calling, is answerable both to the congregation
and to God: both to the people who have authorized one’s ministry
and to the stirrings within that calls us to something deeper and
truer than what we yet know.
Let’s move this from the abstract to the concrete. Where does this
show up? How is it expressed?
Well, for one, there is in most ministerial contracts of our
tradition—actually, it’s not called a “contract,” it’s a “letter of
agreement and call.” But whatever the name, there is a section
called the “Freedom of the Pulpit” clause. That is, the minister is
free to—and expected to—speak the truth as he or she sees it. Not
what a focus group of church members would have the truth to be—but
the truth as he or she sees it. That doesn’t mean that anybody in
the congregation has to agree. But it does mean that expressing a
sincerely held opinion—that expressing the truth as one sees it—is
not valid cause for dismissing the minister. Moreover it means that
he or she is encouraged to follow the call of the holy, where it
might lead.
Here’s another example. When I was starting at another ministerial
position—not this one—someone had the idea that I should be
accountable by making a record of all my visits with congregation
members. Then I was to turn that list over to the governing body of
the organization, presumably to judge whether I was doing the job
adequately.
This is customary procedure for, say, a social worker. Or for a
therapist. Or for those in all manners of jobs. You are constantly
filing reports for superiors so they can keep track of your job
performance. But it’s not ministry in our tradition. Central to that
tradition is that the minister is authorized to do that work to his
or her best ability, as he or she sees fit.
So I said no, I cannot do ministry under the conditions that are
being asked. Those calling me to that position accepted my
point—which I don’t think they had ever really thought about—and
ever since (so far, at least), we have lived happily ever after.
Hence two sources of authority in our tradition that are sometimes
in tension with each other but both have to be present for there to
be effective ministry. On the one hand, the specific congregation
that calls you and therefore authorizes your ministry. On the other
hand, attentiveness to the force of life that calls you. Lose touch
with either—lose the confidence of either one—and you’ve lost your
ministry.
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The specifics of what ministry involves in our tradition has changed
over time. Two hundred years ago, ministers would prepare finely
reasons sermons that could go on for hours: that’s the main thing
they did. They spent the week preparing finely reasoned sermons that
were expected to go on for hours. After all, there was no TV, no
afternoon football games, no shopping malls: the sermon was pretty
much Sunday’s main event.
Things have changed. On the one hand, not many people want a sermon
that goes on for hours. On the other hand, the range of duties of
the ministry have expanded far beyond our predecessors could have
imagined. I have seen these changes just in the years I have been a
minister.
As I was just starting out, we were in an era in which the main
function of the Unitarian Universalist minister was to be an
intellectual leader. The sermon might not have lasted for hours, but
it still was the centerpiece of your week. Unitarian Universalist
ministers prided themselves in not doing some of the basics of most
ministries, such as, visiting the sick. People have told me that if
they were in the hospital, the last person they wanted to see was
their minister—because he only visited those whose situations were
dire. If your minister visited you in the hospital, it meant that
probably you were going to die. Best, then, to keep him away.
Today, care of the sick is an essential aspect of the Unitarian
Universalist ministry. As are other functions that our forebears
would not have engaged in. Staff supervision. Meeting with church
committees covering a wide realm of activities. Participating in
religious education for children and for adults. Becoming involved
in work for social justice. Individual pastoral counseling.
Officiating at weddings and memorial services not just for your own
congregation but for those without formal religious ties. And, oh
yes, the sermon. Have something to say that matters to the people of
your congregation. To be an effective Unitarian Universalist
minister in this day and age, you have to kind of do it all.
And so you need help. Even in a small congregation like Davies,
there’s more than any one person can keep track of. In earlier
generations, the minister stood apart, on his own. Today the concept
of “shared ministry” has become essential. The congregation shares
the ministry with the one designated as minister. We all take
responsibility.
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Here at Davies, you are in your third year of seeking a settled
minister to help guide this congregation into the future.
What qualities are you looking for?
A strong preacher who engages you, makes you think. Yes, that would
be good. For all the changes that we have seen in the liberal
ministry over the years, competence in the pulpit is still the
quality most eagerly sought.
A person who inspires by the example of how he or she lives. Who by
his or her very presence encourages us to become better people. Yes,
that would be good too. There’s more to ministry than giving a
speech on Sunday morning. One also leads by example.
A community leader who becomes known for taking stands on social
justice concerns, who speaks out for what is right and gathers
others in the struggle to create a society that respects and affirms
human worth and dignity. The tradition of involvement in justice
work is long and honored. It would be fortunate to find someone with
passion and abilities in this realm.
A sensitive counselor who is with you in times of challenge—during
those periods when everything seems fragile, uncertain, at risk.
Someone you can trust. This is the pastoral side of ministry, which
in earlier generations of Unitarian Universalist ministry was
sometimes neglected as we engaged in the struggle to change the
world. But we can’t shortchange the pastoral ministry anymore.
A person who is reasonably well organized, personally together, who
appears to have his or her own life under control. Well, this is
important too. “Shared ministry” shouldn’t have to mean that the
church’s function is to take care of the minister.
All these qualities are important. But I haven’t yet named what I
think is most important—more than any of the above. Particularly in
churches with congregational polity, this is what makes or breaks a
ministry.
What I think is most important in a ministry is relationship:
forming a connection with individuals as well as with the
congregational as a whole. None of those other qualities matters if
there is no relationship. If there is a strong relationship, the
minister can fall short in several of those realms and still have an
effective ministry. Actually you can tell pretty quickly when there
is a good relationship between congregation and minister—and you can
tell when there isn’t. Just by walking into the church, you can
tell.
So let’s return to the question of ministerial power and authority
in the Unitarian Universalist tradition. As a minister, I have very
little institutional power. I have no vote on the Board of Trustees
or on any committee. If I were a member of the congregation I would
have one vote—no more—at a congregational meeting. But I’m not a
member because I don’t think that’s appropriate for an interim (or
“developmental”) minister. From the pulpit, I cannot tell you what
to believe or what to think or how to behave. I can’t take a public
stand in the name of the church without assent from its governing
body. I can’t even order paperclips without authorization from
whomever has been designated as having the franchise for maintaining
the church’s paperclip supply.
And yet, as minister I can have substantial influence. Despite the
suspicions of clerical power we find throughout our tradition,
ministers are central to the life of a UU congregation—but only if
there is relationship. Only if there is a strong relationship
between minister and congregation does he or she possess that
influence. Without the relationship, it doesn’t matter how good a
preacher you are, what your educational credentials are, how well
honed are your counseling skills, how effective a public witness you
are, or even how good and holy a person you are—without a strong
relationship, the days of effective ministry in that congregation
will be numbered.
So: ministry in the Unitarian Universalist tradition. What has
developed throughout the 400 years since the essential form of our
congregations was established has been a tradition of free and
independent churches in which ministry has assumed a central role in
guiding a congregation. Ironically, the lack of an external
structure of authority has made the role of the minister more
important. That authority as minister is not given, it has to be
earned. But once earned, the minister then possesses substantial
influence in the life of that congregation.
I’ll give the last word to the Unitarian Universalist minister Jack
Mendelsohn, author of a classic book, Why I am a Unitarian
Universalist, which is the source of one of the opening readings. He
wrote, “The future of the liberal church is almost totally dependent
on these two factors: great congregations (whether large or small),
and skilled, effective, dedicated ministers. The strangest feature
of their relationship is that they create one another.”
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