| by John P. Burgess
Assoc. Professor of Theology
Pittsburgh Theological Seminary
The Challenges of Pastoral Ministry
The Reformed tradition has insisted on a theologically educated
ministry. Theology is good stuff, not only because it offers
us intellectual stimulation, but more especially because "truth
is in order to goodness . . . There is an inseparable connection
between faith and practice, truth and duty" (Book of
Order, G-1.0304). The church's theology does nothing less
than help to sustain pastoral identity and excellence in pastoral
ministry.
Pastoral ministry faces new challenges today. Many of us find
pastoral ministry extraordinarily trying and demanding, and
are deeply concerned about the general health of the church
and of the congregations that we serve.
The work of a pastor has always been difficult. Athanasius
was the great defender of Nicene Orthodoxy. In 328 A.D., he
became the bishop of Alexandria, a position of great power and
influence. But Athanasius never found peace. Despite his great
abilities as a pastor, politician, and theologian, his daily
fortunes rested on whether a defender or opponent of Nicea was
on the throne in Rome. Athanasius would lead his church for
a few years, then flee into exile when a new ruler came to power.
A few years later, rulers would change again, and he could return
home. No fewer than five times Athanasius went in and out of
exile, hardly our idea of a happy, stable ministry.
Fast-forward to the 16th century and John Calvin, our spiritual
forbear in the Reformed tradition. Historians have concluded
that Calvin was ill much of his life. He suffered from various
physical ailments, including insomnia, stomach disorders, and
the gout. He pushed himself relentlessly and lived in a perpetual
state of physical and mental exhaustion. He also experienced
terrible personal tragedies. His only child died shortly after
birth, and his wife died seven years later.
In the more recent past, we might think of Martin Luther King,
Jr., who endured beatings, imprisonments, and ultimately assassination,
as a result of his ministry. Like Athanasius and Calvin, King
lived each day of his life under great stress, never quite sure
what the future would bring.
Ministry has never been easy, and our difficulties as pastors
pale, by comparison, to those that confronted such people as
these. But difficulties we have, difficulties that may in the
end be even more troubling and perplexing than theirs. Whatever
hardships they endured, Athanasius, Calvin, and King had a profound
confidence that they were serving God. In contrast, many pastors
today in North America are haunted by basic questions of pastoral
identity. We are deeply confused about who and what God has
called us to be.
Questions of Identity
Pastors today are unclear about their identity because the
church is unclear about its identity. Fifty years ago, it appeared
that the church would have to learn to minister in the secular
city (see Harvey Cox's book of 1965). A modern, technological
society would inevitably grow more atheistic. But at the beginning
of a new millennium, we can see that Americans remain a highly
religious people (in name, if not always in practice).
Our problem is not a secular atheism, but the dynamics of
a pluralistic, consumer society, a world of the "spiritual
marketplace" (see sociologist Wade Clark Roof's book of
1999). The church suffers not under too little religion, but
under too much. People have many options to choose from, also
in their "spiritual life." The church is just one
more consumer choice among many.
In such a time, the church is constantly tempted to define
itself in terms of market niches. We are a black church, or
a white church, or a Presbyterian church, or a Methodist church,
or a church for the rich, or a church for the poor, or a church
with contemporary worship, or a church with traditional worship-a
church for every taste, but also a church that has forgotten
what it means to be the body of Christ.
Pastors almost inevitably begin to think of themselves as
mere providers of religious services. They are supposed to respond
effectively to every need that comes down the pike. They are
supposed to guarantee that their congregation will be an attractive,
consumer choice, where more and more people will invest their
time and give their money. Pastors easily feel that they must
be all things to all people.
As Joseph Small, director of the denomination's Office of
Theology and Worship (and one of the seminary's graduates),
has written:
[Pastors] are presented with a bewildering and unstable
bundle of images depicting the essence of ministry . . . preacher
. . . teacher . . . community builder . . . programmer . .
. marketer . . . therapist . . . change agent . . . caregiver
. . . manager . . . the list goes on! . . . [There] is an
absence of a coherent, cohesive pastoral identity. (from the
Company of Pastors Day Book)
The problem of pastoral identity is further complicated by
the fact that most pastors are genuinely nice people. They like
the people they serve, and they themselves want to be liked.
They care about others' problems and needs, and want others
to turn to them in times of trouble and joy.
The problem is that there is literally no end to other people's
needs. We will never be able to keep up with them all, let alone
satisfy them all. Pastors, like all of us, are profoundly limited
human beings. They can't be all things to all people, and they
can't keep everyone happy all the time.
Perhaps you have seen the cartoon drawing of a pastor sitting
at his desk, looking at a sign on the wall: "There is a
God. You are not God." If we have no clear sense of pastoral
identity and let others constantly define who we are and what
we do, we will sooner or later grow angry or cynical — or
even experience burnout. We are not God, and we can't do it
all.
The Long Bony Finger of Faith
As my colleague at the seminary, Craig Barnes, has been teaching
us, the bottom line is that none of us will be able to sustain
pastoral ministry without a clear sense of pastoral identity.
Reformation theology reminds us that this identity, like the
identity of the church itself, is rooted in the one thing alone,
the one thing that a person affirms above all when he or she
becomes a member of the church and again when he or she is ordained
or commissioned as a pastor: trust in Jesus Christ as Lord and
Savior. The one and only thing that holds the church together
is Jesus Christ-and the one and only thing that will give us
a clear sense of identity as pastors is Jesus Christ.
As the church's confessions insist, this Jesus is not merely
an historical ideal, not merely a great teacher out of the past.
Rather, to confess Jesus as Lord and Savior is to confess him
as the risen, living Christ who "sits at the right hand
of God the Father Almighty and will come to judge the quick
and the dead." Better market research will not hold the
church together, even if market research has its place. Trying
to keep everybody happy will not hold the church together, even
if we can agree that the church should welcome all and be responsive
to all. And promising to be all things to all people will not
keep a pastor all together, as hard as he or she tries.
The only thing that will hold us together (with other Christians,
and within our own lives) is the risen, living Jesus who has
claimed us-body and soul, in life and in death-as his own, and
who has promised to be with us to the end of the age. The special
privilege of a pastor is to point people again and again to
this risen, living Christ, to remind them of his grace, and
to ask them to attend to his claim on their lives, so that they
might live with a new heart.
A special gift to the seminary offers an arresting image for
pastoral identity. When Karl Barth died in 1968, his son Markus,
professor of New Testament at the seminary, inherited the desk
at which his father had labored for more than thirty years over
the Church Dogmatics. It is our little shrine, to which every
pastor should someday make pilgrimage!
Above the desk, Karl Barth kept a reproduction of Matthias
Grünewald's 16th century Isenheim Altarpiece (also on the
wall above the desk at the library). In the center of the painting,
we see the crucified Christ, his skin brutally pierced lacerated
and his body weighted down. To the left, the beloved disciple
John holds Mary, the mother of Jesus. They are filled with grief
and horror. To the right stands John the Baptist, emaciated
and unkempt and clothed in camel's hair. In one hand, John holds
a book (the Scriptures). With the other, his arm upraised, he
points with his long bony finger to the crucified Christ.
Barth said that the church is called by God to be like John
the Baptist. It is called to do one thing above everything else:
to point with its long bony finger to what God has done for
us in Jesus Christ.
It is especially the church's pastors who lift the church's
bony finger. There is nothing-absolutely nothing!-more important
for a pastor than faithfully executing the ministry of Word
and sacrament, so that Word and sacrament might point all of
us to the crucified Jesus, whom God has now raised to everlasting
life. We might extend Barth's metaphor to say: the pastor is
the church's long bony finger!
A Disciplined Faith
Just how do pastors stay rooted in their identity in Jesus
Christ, so that they do not fall prey to the many other identities
that they are tempted to assume, but faithfully serve as the
church's long bony finger and point to him, not to their own
agenda or somebody else's?
In recent years, North American Christians-pastors too-have
become more aware again of the need to practice their faith.
We are learning again that we need to exercise ourselves regularly
in our identity in Jesus Christ. Disciplines of faith are not
a kind of works righteousness. They do not guarantee us a place
in heaven. Rather, the Holy Spirit uses these disciplines as
a means of shaping us more fully into the image of the living,
risen Jesus. These disciplines are a means of discipleship-of
guarding the identity that is already ours in baptism and through
Jesus' death and resurrection.
Disciplines of faith will not always be easy. They will take
effort and will make demands. Because they are disciplines,
they will take discipline. Joseph Small and the Office of Theology
and Worship have done yeoman's service in encouraging pastors
in the Presbyterian denomination to become more serious about
this kind of discipline. In establishing a Company of Pastors,
a national organization of pastors, the Office has reminded
us that Christians in general and pastors in particular will
want to:
- Pray on a regular basis
- Read Scripture on a regular basis
- Think about their faith on a regular basis
Each of these disciplines seems self-evident, yet each poses
particular challenges to pastors today, beginning with prayer.
Pastors pray on a regular basis. They pray all the time! A meeting
rarely takes place in the church in which someone doesn't say,
"Pastor, won't you say a prayer?" Pastors pray at
hospital bedsides, in counseling sessions, and during Lord's
Day services. They pray for individuals in distress, and for
a world in need. There is probably no day on which a pastor
does not pray fervently and expectantly.
Yet, pastors find it more difficult to pray by themselves
and for themselves. Prayer so easily becomes a professional
responsibility that pastors forget their responsibility to cultivate
a personal life of prayer. How will we as pastors make time
and space for regular, disciplined prayer? Only as we do, will
we remember our true identity in Jesus Christ. If we don't,
we will wither on the vine.
Pastors read the Bible all the time. They read the Bible as
they prepare sermons and Sunday School lessons. Nearly every
day, they mine the text for new insights. If anyone in the church
has a question about Scripture, the pastor is supposed to have
the answer. The pastor doesn't have the luxury of saying, "Go
read a commentary," or "Go consult a Bible scholar."
The pastor is the congregation's commentary and Bible scholar.
Yet, pastors get so busy reading the Bible for professional
purposes that they no longer read it slowly and carefully and
meditatively by themselves and for themselves. Reading the Bible
becomes just another weekly task to be checked off, rather than
a daily discipline of opening oneself to God. How will we as
pastors make time and space to listen for God's living Word
to us in Scripture? Only as we do, will we stay rooted in our
pastoral identity in Christ. If we don't, our preaching will
soon become stale and dead.
Pastors think theologically all the time. They answer people's
questions about God and belief. They know the church's theological
traditions better than anyone else in the congregation. Yet,
pastors frequently neglect their theological responsibilities.
Too often they find themselves using words that they themselves
no longer understand-formulations about the faith that are as
predictable and safe as they are superficial and empty. Pastors
can easily forget that a living faith must struggle to hear
God's living Word anew each day.
When will we as pastors make time and space to keep thinking
about the big questions of faith? When will we give attention
to the great theological insights of the past and present? When
will we grapple with the church's confessions and the church's
great theologians-that help us to think better thoughts than
we could on our own? For the truth is that no matter how bright
we are, we are always beginners. We desperately need the help
of those who have gone before us and who have thought about
the faith more deeply than we.
Pastors may not pray as faithfully as they wish, but most
have a discipline of daily prayer. Pastors may not meditate
on Scripture as faithfully as they wish, but most have a daily
discipline of Bible reading. But the truth is that many pastors
quit reading books of theology, once they leave seminary. They
settle for easy, popular literature that has an immediate pay-off
for a sermon illustration or a new church program, but that
does not demand much of them intellectually. Unless we as pastors
reform our ways, we will not feed the people in our congregations
the risen, living Christ, but just our outdated ideas. We will
soon be giving them stones, instead of bread-and we ourselves
will become hard-hearted.
The right place for pastors to begin is with careful, sustained
study of the church's confessions. Presbyterian pastors take
vows to "sincerely receive and adopt the essential tenets
of the Reformed faith as expressed in the confessions . . .
[and to] be instructed and led by those confessions." The
confessions are the church's theology. They lead us out of the
narrowness of our own thinking to the wider testimony of the
community of faith across time and space. If we take the confessions
seriously, they will guide us into a deeper reading of the Bible
in its witness to the living Lord.
Common Practice
Who could ever be disciplined enough in prayer, Scripture
reading, and theological reflection? All of us will fall short.
That is why it is critically important that we have others who
accompany us-especially other pastors with whom we will covenant
to pray and read Scripture and think theologically on a regular,
disciplined basis. We need others who will encourage us and
help hold us accountable in living the faith.
Pastors sometimes forget that the great Karl Barth himself
began his work as a simple country pastor. For twelve years,
he ministered to a small Swiss village in the Alps. We might
wonder how this towering intellectual figure could ever connect
with the local farmers and village people. But apparently Barth
was a very good pastor. He was a good pastor because he cared
about people. He made time for them. He let them know that he
was on their side.
Above all, Barth wanted people to know the risen, living Jesus.
He got tremendously excited about every sermon that he preached.
His biographer tells us that Barth would sit down to breakfast
Sunday morning, but would be so focused on what he wanted to
say that he would forget to eat and would literally run from
his house to the pulpit.
As brilliant as Barth was, he knew that he needed a partner
in ministry to help keep him rooted in his pastoral identity.
He had such a friend in a pastor in a neighboring Swiss village,
and every Monday Barth would get up at 4 a.m. and jog 18 miles
over the mountains into the next valley to meet him for breakfast
and a day of prayer, Scripture reading, and theological reflection.
Even Barth needed someone to encourage him and help hold him
accountable.
The challenge to us is clear. Who will our partners in ministry
be? With whom will we covenant to pray, read Scripture, and
reflect theologically on a regular basis-hopefully, daily-basis?
How will we become more disciplined in faithful living, both
for our own sake and for the sake of the congregations that
we seek to serve?
It is a difficult time to be a pastor, but there is no more
important a time to be a pastor. If we can stay firm in our
identity as pastors who point to Jesus Christ, we will help
the church to claim its true identity in him. If we as pastors
stay disciplined in faith, we will make some small, but critical
contribution to renewing the church in our time. And in all
this, we will perhaps grow in our own joy for this privileged
task to which the church has called us.
(These comments were originally made to a
group of commissioned lay pastors in Redstone Presbytery, on
Sept. 27, 2003.) |
