Pastoral Ministry in the Hundred-acre Wood

It will come as a surprise to none of you here, but Bill has walked a remarkable journey to get where we are now: he’s acted in, written, produced, and directed plays. He went to law school and (briefly) practiced law on Wall Street. He taught theater to students…on two continents! He is a sommelier… which is useful when dining out and not drinking out of a box.

I’ve known Bill for a long time. At Drew University, he got me into student pub at the University Center when I misplaced my id. In return, I took him on at least one or two of the Tuesday night weekly communion services that Dr. James Pain led in the seminary chapel. We dabbled in student government, God help us! And, best of all for me, he basically introduced me to Peg, who’d become my spouse, and he stood as one of the “rogue ushers” at our wedding. He taught me how to navigate Manhattan like a pro and, when he was studying at Fordham, he’d show up at my seminary chapel in Chelsea from time to time, just I showed up once at Yale divinity school when years later he was studying there. Back in Manhattan, it might have been Bill who helped me smuggle pizza into the hospital to feed Peg after my son’s birth. He sponsored my daughter as her godparent at her baptism. And after all that, I still invited him to preach in the parish I served on our 40^th wedding anniversary.

But for all that, and standing here now, one question still bothers me: here you are:  writer… actor… director…  lawyer… professor… wine expert… and while you meet all the traditional criteria, you’re not an Episcopalian? What’s up with that?

Well, I think I know the answer to that. And it has less to do with denominational identity and everything with what it means to be a “disciple.”

A “disciple” is a friend and apprentice of Jesus Christ.

Most of the definitions I’ve read say something like a disciple is “student” and a “follower” of Jesus or someone in leadership. That’s true, but I say “friend and apprentice” because of what the Gospels show us Jesus being and doing as a travelling rabbi with his happy band of women and men. His disciples weren’t merely students, but imitators. And Jesus wasn’t just a travelling rabbi, their religious master and teacher, but he was their companion, their confidant, and above all, their friend.

In the Gospel lesson this afternoon, we hear Jesus getting ready to send out his friends and apprentices to do some unexpected things.

I can see it now. They are hanging on Jesus’ every word. He says, “Look at how big the field is. Look at how much work there is to do! Pray for people who can do the work!” And just as they fold their hands, piously bow their heads, and close their eyes, Jesus says “Well, hallelujah! God has answered our prayers!” The disciples look around confused, wondering where the crowd of eager volunteers is, when Jesus looks at them and says, “You, my friends, are the answer to our prayers!”

To which the disciples stammer in confusion, and he walks down the road “Wait! What?” they say as they try to catch up. “But, but, but Jesus... I thought… we thought we were going to be… you know, leaders!”

“Who says you aren’t?”

“I thought we were going to get other people to do this stuff!”

“Who says you won’t?”

“But you want us—you want me!—to go out there and do that stuff, too?”

“Yeah!” protests at least one or two disciples. “Who do think we are? Servants?”

“Yup. Exactly. How do you think other people are going to want to do my work?”

That’s the thing that we often miss about leadership. By that I mean all kinds of leadership, including—maybe especially—pastoral leadership. Just as Godself is best known in relationship, good leadership, real leadership, grows out of companionship. We think that we elect leaders or give them medals or raises. Nah! Those are just bosses. Real leaders are our companions.

The Reign of God is like the Hundred-Acre Wood. This community, and every gathering of God’s people is, too. That’s just how it is, and you know what? You have been called and invited by God and these folks to minister among them as companions, friends, and apprentices of Jesus Christ.

One of my favorite teachers about leadership is a guy named Simon Sinek. He has a bunch of books, and you can find him on YouTube, and in leadership journals in both the business world and in the church world. One of his maxims, which is also the title of a book and a TED talk, is “Leaders Eat Last.” His thesis is that a leader’s first job is the care and safety of the group being led. Good officers wait for the soldiers, marines and sailors who do the actual work to eat first, even if only get leftovers, if anything. Good leaders put the welfare of the group ahead of themselves, their status in the organization, or even their ambition. He contrasts groups that reward leaders based on self-interest versus those that reward selflessness. And the funny thing is, very often (and there are certainly exceptions… and Scripture has a few things to say about those people!), the groups that promote and reward selflessness are often the strongest, most innovative, and the most prosperous, if…

…And you knew there had to be an “if” in there, right…?  

If the groups and their leadership remember who it is they are serving. And where it is they serve. And always ask “why” we are doing what we are doing, especially when the group has fallen in bad habits or just being well… you know.

We serve God in Christ, and we serve the people of God. And the people of God serve all the other people of God. And not just the people who walk into this room every Sunday, either… everyone, everywhere. Especially the ones who wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.

Recently, Andy Doyle, the Episcopal bishop of Texas who writes about pastoral leadership, wrote in his book The Jesus Heist:

“[Jesus says,] The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Notice how Jesus counts: he begins with the field, and only then the workers. Churches, judicatories, and nonprofits tend to count the other way, tallying members, attendance, and budget, while the field goes unmeasured…. Behavioral science calls [this…] habit ‘availability bias;’ [in response] the Gospel simply calls us back to the field. Count the harvest first.”

The purpose of the church, he says, is not internally focused, insular communities...the work of the church is a motley crew...going into the world...willing to die and be born anew...so that people's lives can be changed.

God has given you everything you need to be exactly the person God has called you to be. And God has given Mount Sinai Congregational Church everything you all need to live out exactly who God has called you to be: open to God’s voice, inclusive of all God’s people, and daring to experiment for the sake of the Gospel.

A wise old mentor once sat me down when I was new to this ordination thing, and she both calmed me down and straightened me out when I was having a bad day. Lois was a long-time member of her rural, small-town congregational church and a retired middle school teacher who had been there, done that. The wife of a dairy farmer in northeast Connecticut, by God’s grace she became an office volunteer for our Episcopal congregation’s daily feeding ministry. I was at once riding my high horse and also dripping with anxiety because of the goings on in that strange and unruly group that was my first congregation. One day, I frankly had it up to here. Neck deep in my own anxiety, I began to vent and whine, probably waving my arms and walking in circles. She patiently listened to me until I finally ran out of steam. Then, after a moment she asked me if I ever read Winnie the Pooh.

Huh? I asked. What has that got to do with anything?

Well, she said (and, of course, I’m paraphrasing), in the Pooh stories everyone in the hundred-acre wood all have their own quirks, behaviors, gifts, and insights. The only monster they fear is the Heffalump, who only lives in their imaginations. And every single character knows each other from top to bottom, from Pooh getting stuck in honey jars, to sad old Ee-Ore, to officious Owl, to bouncy, hyperactive Tigger, and all of them stay friends.

In forty-four years, I have never forgotten that gentle lesson. The Reign of God is like the Hundred-Acre Wood. This community, and every gathering of God’s people is, too. That’s just how it is, and you know what? You have been called and invited by God and these folks to minister among them as a companion, friend, and apprentice of Jesus Christ.

The Charge

Where I come from, the tradition as ordinations is to end the sermon with a “charge,” where the preacher gives the ordinand some wise and possibly memorable words, before we all gather around, lay our hands on Bill, and in Jesus’ name squash his head before setting him loose on an unsuspecting church….

So, Bill, will you please stand?

As a guy who has spent nearly his whole adult life doing churchy stuff in parishes and hospitals, I am in awe, and, I must admit, a tad envious, of the amazing journey that brings you to this community at this time. Because you know what it means to be follower of Jesus in a preoccupied and distracted world. You know how questions, doubts, fears, uncertainty, are the yeast that ferments the wine of ordinary living. Of all your many gifts, this is perhaps the most important, as you walk with this gathering of folks who seek to live faithfully in the world God has given them.

So, start by just being present. Listen first. Then listen some more. If necessary, talk.

Second, listen to your uncertainty, your resistance, and your questions. They are probably telling you something. We find God in the silence, the beauty, in depth of the Word and the immediacy of the Sacrament, in the music and beauty of worship, and in the community of God’s people, for sure; and we when we find ourselves staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m. thinking “now what?” God is there, too. At moments like that, be calm and listen. And when the silliness of whatever is preoccupying you bubbles up before you drift back to sleep, don’t forget to laugh. Especially at yourself.

Third, you are not alone. This gathering of friends, family, colleagues, and congregants are the tip of the iceberg of people who are not only pulling for you, and who are also, in their way, learning and doing the work of Jesus along with you, however they understand God to be. Don’t forget to pray and remember that you are being prayed for.

Finally, remember Lois’ lesson: Every congregation is the hundred-acre wood, and it’s all good. You are God’s beloved child. Now, go out and have fun.

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Bulletin for the Ordination of the Rev. William C. Kovacsik is found here.

More information about Mt. Sinai UCC Church, Mount Sinai, NY is found here.

The service of ordination is here. The sermon begins here at the 8:54 mark.

The scripture lessons are here and here.

The heart of Christian leadership is servanthood

A Sermon at the ordination of Dale T. Grandfield to the Sacred Order of Deacons, June 4, 2016

Acts 6: 2-7

Trinity Episcopal Church, Easton, Pennsylvania.

Once upon a time, a seminary classmate of mine, who is now on the faculty of a certain seminary in a certain city, walked into a classroom full of eager, young junior year seminarians in one of their first classes and wrote on the chalkboard “Ordination is demotion.”

Today is a good day to think about Christian leadership, and how it is different than other kinds of leadership and how, you, Dale, and we, the gathered People of God, might live that out.

Simon Sinek is right now on my top ten list of people who think about leadership and groups. He has a book called “Leaders Eat Last” and in it, he tells this story about Captain William Swenson who was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his actions on September 8, 2009:

On that day, a column of American and Afghan troops were making their way through a part of Afghanistan to help protect a group of government officials, a group of Afghan government officials, who would be meeting with some local village elders. The column came under ambush, and was surrounded on three sides, and amongst many other things, Captain Swenson was recognized for running into live fire to rescue the wounded and pull out the dead. One of the people he rescued was a sergeant, and he and a comrade were making their way to a medevac helicopter.

And what was remarkable about this day is, by sheer coincidence, one of the medevac medics happened to have a GoPro camera on his helmet and captured the whole scene on camera. It shows Captain Swenson and his comrade bringing this wounded soldier who had received a gunshot to the neck. They put him in the helicopter, and then you see Captain Swenson bend over and give him a kiss before he turns around to rescue more.Sinek asks the question:

…where do people like that come from? What is that? That is some deep, deep emotion, when you would want to do that. There's a love there, and I wanted to know why…? You know, in the military, they give medals to people who are willing to sacrifice themselves so that others may gain. In business, we give bonuses to people who are willing to sacrifice others so that we may gain. 

So he asked those in military service, "Why would you do it? Why did you do it?" They all say the same thing: "Because they would have done it for me." This jives with my experience of every nurse, EMT, firefighter, and cop that I have ever ministered to as a chaplain. It also jives with my experience as a parish priest in ordinary extraordinary communities just like this.

The challenge is that this deep sense of trust and cooperation are feelings, not instructions. As Sinek says, “I can't simply say to you, ‘Trust me,’ and you will. I can't simply instruct two people to cooperate, and they will. It's not how it works. It's a feeling.”

Sinek’s observation points to what is at the core of what we are doing here today: because at the heart of Christian leadership is servanthood.

Today’s lesson from Acts is a very important lesson in my own spiritual journey. It works on so many levels. But, believe it or not, if the only way you encounter the Bible is through the Revised Common Lectionary, you will never, ever hear this story on a Sunday. It just doesn’t show up! If it weren’t for ordinations and the Daily Office, the church would never hear this story at all…and that is too bad. 

Here is what happens:

The apostles, who, if you recall, are themselves new to ministry, have started this amazing, happening church! They are feeding people, sharing the resources of the whole community to care for those in need particularly widows and orphans. The church in Acts is growing like wild-fire. Baptisms right and left, from not only the Jewish community (remember—the Church was still a Jewish sect at this time) but from the Gentile world!

But success was killing them. Apparently The Twelve were in a panic because what they started had grown so large. They feared that they would no longer have time to go out preach and teach. The Twelve were feeling overwhelmed.

But wait! There’s more! The lesson that was read today cuts out the thing that was really causing stress for the infant church: the division that was already growing between the Jewish Christians and the Gentile Christians. Luke describes how the Jewish Christians would only help other Jews, and the Gentile Christians would only help other Gentiles…who were at this moment the minority…and they were getting the left-overs.

So the apostles did what leaders the world over have done since time immemorial: (1) They complained that they did not sign on for this, and then (2) they kicked the can down the road while (3) being sure to use the language of the pastoral high road.

What we have here is the first administrative freak out in the history of the church! And the new Deacons rose to the occasion. (I see the Deacons in the room nodding their heads. So what else is new?) They rolled up their sleeves, slung their towels over their shoulders, and went to work.

But for The Twelve, there is also real maturity going on here. Just as Jethro took Moses aside and said, “Listen, son, you can’t do this alone” or when Moses chose the seventy, The Twelve have realized that listening to the Spirit all by themselves was not going to cut it. The Spirit was speaking through the whole community, so they had to distribute their authority, both to those first seven deacons and to community that chose them.

Although they didn’t know it, The Twelve had themselves experienced their own diaconal moment, and in so they doing they began to heed the Holy Spirit’s prompting and respect and trust the people that God has given them to serve.  They discovered that the heart of Christian leadership is servanthood.

This is a lesson we have to learn over and over again.

Which is why that the most diaconal thing that a Deacon (or any Christian!) can do is to ask“why.”

Especially since we spend a lot of time on the “what” and the “how” of Christian ministry but rarely on the “why.” We see this in our evangelism all the time. We say, “Come to our church, we welcome everybody!” (That’s the what.) And we say, “We have really beautiful worship! Come and join us!” (That’s the how.) They are very important. Congregations that get these right are, well, amazing! But “Why” do what we do? And why, compared to the Farmer’s Market, or the Iron Pigs, or sleeping in, should anyone care?

Because we have in the person of Jesus Christ seen the face of God. And in encountering Jesus, I have found myself, fully known—in all my brokenness and in all my potential—and fully loved.

Why? Because in Jesus Christ, we have a community and an identity.

Why? Because in Jesus Christ, we have discovered how to love the people around us and do the things that addresses the deep pain of this world.

Why? Because God gives us he tools and the power to be the people God made us to be.

Why? Because God, who could come to us in any way God wanted, chose to become incarnate in the form of a servant in the person of Jesus Christ.

You will be spending much of your time in congregation with organizing the “what” and the “how” of parish ministry. People will judge you on the quality of the program you create and manage. But they will love and trust you only as you inspire them to join together in God’s work of saving, loving, and caring for this world and each other.

You know this already. You have seen the miracles that safe, generous leadership can create, and the wreckage that disconnected leadership, or leadership built on theories of disruption, can bring. When you went on adventures exploring antique stores and (apparently) empty churches with a friend. When you have directed choirs and led congregations in music. When things got crazy and you decided to gather your friends in the Chapel in the middle of the night to sing hymns. When, in the moment of crisis, you walked across the aisle in a chapel full of hurting people so you could embrace and hang onto a friend in deep pain. When you and Brad took a risk, loaded up yet another U-Haul and went to a strange, faraway place and a new community. When you and your friends debated the deep truths over beer and big sandwiches at Shenanigans…through all of this you have been discovering this truth again and again and again:

The heart of Christian leadership is servanthood.

Dale:

The time has come. This parish—this gathering of God’s people-- has heard God’s call, identified you as one set apart for a special ministry, and has placed you before the whole church to test and confirm that call and to form and prepare you for ministry. You are ready for this new journey.

Be the guy who asks why.

Be a leader who creates safe spaces of deep grace.

Trust the people God has given you to serve.

And don’t forget:

YSR!

In your own Hundred Acre Wood (and every parish is The Hundred Acre Wood, get over it!) do as Piglet does: When you wake up, ask yourself “I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?” Which is a pretty good bookend to a good Ignatian Examen every night.

Ground yourself in the whole prayer of the whole church everyday.

Be an ambassador of reconciliation. This is not a job for wimps, but you’ve got this. 

Because you have a servant’s heart, and that is the foundation for excellent Christian leadership.

And may God go with you in all do.