[The following essay is excerpted from Michael Plekon’s Ministry Matters: Pastors, Their Life and Work Today (Cascade, 2024).]
What you have before you is a book about the ordained and their ministry. Why? Gifted theologian and priest Sarah Coakley has wondered herself about the point of such inquiry, given all we know and the state of things in the world as well as in the church.[1] There was a good bit of material about the ordained and their ministry in my previous book on community as church.[2] There had to be. You cannot seriously look at congregations, at community as church and church as community, without considering pastors. But that study simply did not have the space for extended attention to pastors. Contrary to what members of a parish often think, the church is not all about the clergy. Pastors do not exhaust the meaning of church. The canons and other ecclesiastical codes recognize this, usually requiring the presence of at least one layperson for valid eucharistic liturgy. There are also standards for candidacy to ordination, including membership in the church in which ordination is sought. Further, it is obvious that no matter how one describes a congregation, it is fundamentally a community of faith. Reaffirming this was the aim of my previous book. . . .
In the Christian tradition, ordained ministry is the service of God and the people of God by women and men who have trained for and been discerned to be appropriate as pastors. As the bishop or other ordaining minister lays his hands on the new pastor, he or she is set apart by prayer and by the descent of the Holy Spirit, who is called down for the occasion. Their ministry is essential to the life of a community of faith, which is what the church is, at least as has been claimed through Christian history. In my earlier book, I gathered many examples of congregations in which community showed itself to be the heart of church. These congregations also gave evidence of ordained ministry or service as a source of inspiration and leadership to the local church. Some were seriously threatened by decline, shrinkage, and decaying or under-utilized facilities. This is widely the case today, across the many church bodies or denominations in America. It is a truly ecumenical reality.
At the outset, I want to make clear that the point of view here is that ministry is the calling of the entire church, of every baptized member of the people of God. If it can be said that in the last century or more there has been a “rediscovery” of the meaning of “church,” it is precisely that we are all sent out to “proclaim the Gospel, using words if necessary,” in the saying attributed to Francis of Assisi. The actions and words of Jesus and his disciples in the Scriptures make clear that following him creates a community, making church a communal reality, as argued in my previous book. In that context, this book aims to understand the decline and shrinkage of actual communities of faith, congregations. If there is any way in which to interpret what is happening to congregations in our time, and for that matter, in earlier periods, however, it has to be considered in the context of the very core of the faith: the Paschal mystery of Jesus’s death and resurrection, the saving acts that are reflected in baptism and the Eucharist.
Listening to Pastor-Theologians
During such reflection, it will be useful to listen to clergy who have written eloquently about their often extremely difficult and painful experience in ministry. Some of this has already been done in a collection I edited, The Church Has Left the Building, in my previous book, Community as Church, Church as Community, as well as in other projects I have put together. Here, I propose to listen to a group of gifted pastor-theologians, several of whom I have already mentioned. Using a method I previously have employed effectively, I want you to listen to these master pastors with me and learn from them. I will act as host and commentator, sharing what I think will be worthwhile responses and connections to their narratives.
We will hear from George Keith, Nicholas Afanasiev, Cathie Caimano, C. Andrew Doyle, David Barnhart, Andrew Root, Sam Wells, Barbara Brown Taylor, Nadia Bolz-Weber, Sarah Coakley, Rowan Williams, Henri Nouwen, Pope Francis, and Will Willimon. This is an ecumenical, diverse group of figures who represent many traditions: Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Episcopal, and Methodist, among others. All are themselves ordained and have served in congregations or in other venues. Of course, there are many others to whom we could listen, but the Mies van der Rohe adage is, I think, wise: “Less is more.” Not only that, but given the breadth (and depth) of the women and men just mentioned, their experience in ministry and discernment, the result will be rewarding. I will also draw on my own forty years of experience in ordained ministry, bringing the lessons I have been taught by friends and colleagues in pastoral service.
This is not a prescriptive book. Rather, it is a gathering of reflections from the wealth of experience had by the authors to whom we will listen with my commentary. Neither is this a “recipe” or “how to pastor” guide. I am not aiming to detail what pastors should do, though from what is said, there will be implications for that, as well as for what they should not do. If I had to say what you, as a reader, will receive, it would be this: a set of rich reflections on who a pastor is, which will necessarily entail what a pastor does. What this book offers can be summarized in a wonderful statement I heard in a sermon by George Keith and will examine more fully in the first chapter of the book: “What is a priest? Someone who takes God to the people and the people to God.”[3]
An Ecumenical Listening and Reflection
There are a number of names or titles for the ordained. The already referred to New Testament letters speak of those involved in diakonia, which is “ministry” or “service.” Hence the term “ministers.” There are also references to specific ministries, such as those of teacher, evangelists, and those caring for the everyday needs of widows and the poor. There is also the episkopos, an overseer or superintendent, the frequent version of which has historically been the bishop. Elders or presbyters (presbyteroi) are mentioned in addition. From this as well as from other titles, like the rarely used hierus, comes “priest.” In the history of the Christian churches, all of these titles—as well as others like archbishop, metropolitan (bishop), dean, archdeacon, among others—have been used. During the Reformation, however, some churches distanced themselves, as some do today, from titles like bishop and priest, considering pastor and deacon to be more biblical. Anti-Catholic sentiment also came into play, plus the theological rejection of anything resembling “sacrifice” in the Eucharist. Sacrifice, however, has been offered by priests both in Judaism and other traditions. Priesthood was mandated in the Torah, where the details of vestments, purification and ordination rites, and liturgical responsibilities are laid out in detail. The Anglican, Methodist, Scandinavian, some other Lutheran Churches, and, of course, the Catholic and Orthodox Churches never stopped using the titles of bishop and priest.
Here, several of these titles will be employed without theological interpretation or preference. That is, minister/pastor/priest will be used as functionally synonymous. Less will be said about the particular roles of bishop and deacon. Bishops are, regardless of denominational differences, for the most part regional pastors without congregations. Though in some church bodies they do serve congregations, they often have other clergy perform day-to-day pastoral activities. While deacons do largely serve congregations, they do so under and with pastors.
This look at ordained ministry is deliberately ecumenical, not restricted to a particular church body. The intention is to follow what is called the “Catholic” or universal tradition. Of course, from the very beginnings of the church, there have always been local differences. For all the theological differences, there remains, however, a still recognizable common tradition about what ordained ministry looks like. Also, despite differing theological and church perspectives, here it is assumed that both women and men can be set apart and ordained. Ministry is, by definition, personal. It is a call heard by a person. It must be acknowledged and extended by the community to a person, with the Spirit’s descent through the laying on of hands. It will be assumed here that there are no obstacles to such ministry on the basis of sexual identity, race or ethnicity, which, along with gender, have been historical impediments to ordination, along with other factors such as illegitimacy and age.
What You Will Learn
Who will benefit from what follows in this book? I must confess that some of the difficult, painful experiences I have had as a priest, which have been based on how the institutional church dealt with me and others I have known, made me pause for some time in starting to work on this book. One particularly challenging confrontation came from being marginalized upon retirement. At first, this felt like a kind of punishment for past actions and positions not favored by ecclesiastical authority. It is one thing to be retired from regular active ministry. It is another to be deprived of the ability to preach, preside, and offer pastoral care. This situation thankfully changed. I was welcomed elsewhere and invited to continue to contribute as a priest, an unexpected gift of graciousness and hospitality.
However, what most urged me to do the work here was the listening, as in lectio divina, to voices I had heard and heeded before. These are what I offer to you above all else. By revisiting these true teachers of pastoral service in writing, I again learned much. I again saw that despite, or even perhaps because of, the division in our society and the challenge of shrinkage and decline in our congregations, pastoral leadership is all the more important.
Finally, pastors need pastors themselves. That is what this volume provides from exemplary mothers and fathers in the practice of pastoral ministry. I think that those serving in ministry will find much that is valuable from them, as will those in formation for ordination, and, for that matter, the rest of the people of God living out the Gospel in their everyday existence, walking the path of dying and rising. If Community as Church offered something of worth, it is my hope that the same will be the case for this reflection on ministry matters and that ministry matters. . . .
One more vivid experience I had witnesses to the power for transformation that exists as a gift in the community that is church, specifically in the efforts of the pastors who preach and lead within. In a parish I served, a new member sat next to me at a regular potluck supper and we began to converse. As sometimes happens, the simple act of talking while eating became like the fellowship meals Jesus had nightly with his friends while traveling around Palestine, healing and preaching. All I had to do was listen and I was given a detailed account of a life with many twists and upheavals. Many of the pieces were bound together through reflections on parenthood; another unifying strand was her career as a medical professional. Not surprising, church had also been a constant in her life, though she had taken some breaks from regular participation. It did not take me long to learn that she was a lively, intelligent, much experienced professional who was also very happy to have discovered the parish; she was there both for the Sunday Eucharist and to begin to participate in other community activities like this shared supper.
In the better part of the hour and a half we spent eating and talking, I learned far more about her life than I would have in a formal interview, a phenomenon to which most priests can attest. She forewarned me that her fairly extreme right-wing politics were not a place to visit, which I took as a kindness, thinking she’d sensed I was on the opposite end of the political spectrum. She also added that she had learned not to inflict her politics on people, knowing that doing so would break relationships and make further connections difficult. Pastors are always very grateful for such a stance of mutual respect and a desire to keep open friendships and conversation.
Sometime later, at a Sunday coffee hour, I spontaneously invited this new parishioner to volunteer the next day at the parish’s monthly hosting of a food bank. This was one of the major parish outreach activities; with a substantial truck delivery of nonperishables as well as produce and proteins, our food source was one of the best in the county. I was not prepared for the response I got—a barrage of anger about free loaders, ingrates, and shiftless, lazy people who only wanted to take. Given our remote location and the demographics of the town, this description was completely inaccurate. Moreover, it ignored the enduring factors that created food insecurity, both for those whose low-income status was more visible as well as for many others, including seniors, who looked as middle class and respectable as the volunteers themselves. I realized I had not been thoughtful enough; I had not considered what I’d learned about this parishioner’s politics and their social implications. I apologized quickly, saying I had not been very thoughtful in inviting her to partake in a day of hard work setting up stations and distributing food followed by breaking down the tables and transporting leftovers to the town resource facility, where they would be distributed in the food bank the next day. Later that day, in the afternoon, I got an email message. It was my parishioner, pleading for my forgiveness for her outburst. She said that it had been her “bad self” erupting, and I should count on her being there as a volunteer the next day. The next day, there she was, absolutely bonding with the other volunteers, some of whom she knew from church, others she knew from town, and still others she was meeting for the first time. The two of us worked a station where we distributed frozen meat and tortillas, where her genuine social gifts were apparent in her ebullient laughter and banter. She could not help but show her joy all through the day, and she then told me what a great thing it was, the food bank, and how wrong she was to reject and criticize it simply on principle, because it was a giveaway to those in need. It occurred to me that what I saw that day through her transformation was the emergence of the deeper identity of someone who had spent years treating patients, offering care, and healing in a long medical career. In subsequent food banks, we continued to work together, gravitating to the same station.
Not long before this interaction, this same fellow parishioner had engaged in a dialogue from the Book of Common Prayer at a church service that I will share here.
| Bishop | Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers? |
| People | I will, with God’s help. |
| Bishop | Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? |
| People | I will, with God’s help. |
| Bishop | Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? |
| People | I will, with God’s help. |
| Bishop | Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? |
| People | I will, with God’s help. |
| Bishop | Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being? |
| People | I will, with God’s help.[4] |
After, there was a blessing and exchange of peace to welcome new members into both the parish and the larger church. My fellow food bank volunteer was one of those welcomed and received; she had heard these words and responded, she had been blessed and then greeted by the rest of the congregation that Sunday. As with the words read and prayed at the funeral and internment and at so many other services, I believe that there was a sacrament present and active in this exchange, one of transformation and ongoing growth in Christ. She had seemed to experience an “epiphany” of change, moving from the rage of a “bad self” to the joy of being and working together with sisters and brothers at the food bank.
I hope you can see the point. There are so many aspects of the small scenes of pastoral ministry both in the example of the parishioner at the food bank as well as in the funeral and internment that invite reflection. Although feeding hungry people may not appear to be very religious or spiritual, even if the food bank starts with a prayer—there are no hymns, readings or prayers; there is no exchange of the peace or communion with bread and wine—it is liturgy if ever there was liturgy. Liturgy emanates from the thanksgiving expressed on the part of the volunteers and the gratitude explicitly expressed by those receiving the food; it manifests in the sense, at the end of a long, tiring day, of having spent good time with good people, in the rapport among the volunteers, and in the smiles of those coming for food, many of whom are known to those of us volunteering.
This small piece of my pastoral experience enables me to lift up the reality that to be a priest, a pastor, means to not just see conversion and change but to sometimes unknowingly be an agent of such transformation. This does not occur through any intent or special gift but simply because the pastor does what the Good Pastor or Shepherd does—or at least is supposed to!
That the Spirit, acting in what I did as a priest, was heard and experienced is for me an act of faith, hope, and love. Perhaps, in the end, that is what all the writers we have listened to would say. In addition to all I tried to summarize, the ordained and their ministry are agents of faith, hope, and love. From Nicholas Afanasiev to Will Willimon; George Keith to Nadia Bolz-Weber; Barbara Brown Taylor to Sam Wells and Sarah Coakley; Henri Nouwen to Rowan Williams and Pope Francis, and all of my other friends and colleagues in different church bodies and parishes, all of them—whether bishops, pastors, or deacons—have prayed and proclaimed the same words as I have, at the same rites and passage points, Sundays and feasts. All of them have, I think, had to make the same acts of faith, hope, and love, trusting that the Father heard those words, that the Son spoke and acted through them, as did the Holy Spirit, and that the people of God heard this good news. We have all known, in our moments of clarity and grace, that whenever we have recited these words, we echo thousands of other pastors through the last two thousand years into a third millennium. It does not matter whether there are a handful or a packed church receiving them. We know that the entire communion of saints, all those named and recognized and the millions of others who are not, are present whenever we gather to pray, hear the Scriptures, and share the bread and cup.
In Community as Church, I argued that the central motif of the Christian faith is death and resurrection. This is echoed when one enters the community through baptism and confirmation/chrismation. It is proclaimed at the side of one who is ill, whether at home or in a hospital; it is reiterated at the graveside, and it is even stressed when two people are starting a life together. As God knows, people will experience death and resurrection many times. In effect, in the eucharistic liturgy, central to the memory and reenactment are the death, resurrection, ascension, and glorious second coming of the Lord.
Put differently, these words and actions are not just hopeful thrusts into the void or aspirations in a bleak, secular, indifferent landscape. Alexander Schmemann was but one of several contemporary students of liturgy and life to recognize that the world is a sacrament, as is life.[5] These are not just the words of an institution. Their sacramental reality extends far beyond where a more scholastic precision strove to locate it. The Eucharist starts when people awaken and get washed and dressed to gather at church. It continues long after the service, into Monday morning and Friday evening. The idea that merely asserting certain beliefs or maintaining particular ecclesial structures and liturgical rites will stop the decline in church attendance and perhaps even affect “church growth” is unrealistic. Denial of decline and shrinkage is delusion. Refuting this and related claims were the purpose of what I gathered, reported on, and argued in Community as Church.
Here, at the conclusion of Ministry Matters, I confess that I did wonder whether trying to look at the lives and ministry of the ordained after having looked at the church as community was necessary, worthwhile, or even doable. I had no stomach for reciting once more all the numbers about clergy who had called it quits within five years of ordination, reflecting the rate of priest burnout that is associated with blaming them for shrinkage, decline, and the divided world they have had no role in creating. While I was excited to discuss the return to ancient mentoring and community-focused, service-based liturgy stressed in non-residential formation programs for ordination, I was not so enthusiastic that many church bodies were still stuck on worn out models of ministry education. I was saddened by the rigidity of contemporary institutional religious administrators and their inability to bring canons and statutes to life. I myself had gotten caught in the machinery of adversarial church officials and punitive measures imposed without cause.
However, I have found that returning to a method close to the spirit of lectio divina—reading slowly, listening carefully, and reflecting deeply on what some of the real masters of ministry and true teachers of pastoral life and work have said—has for sure been more than rewarding for me personally. These pastor-theologians have reinforced many things in my previous book’s exploration of church today. They have also affirmed the larger vision that church is community, showing the crucial roles of those set apart and ordained to serve the people of God.
[1] Coakley, “Introduction,” 1.
[2] Plekon, Community as Church. Also see Plekon, Church Has Left.
[3] See chapter 2, “George Keith: What Is a Priest?”
[4] Book of Common Prayer, 417.
[5] Plekon, “Liturgy of Life”; Plekon, World as Sacrament.
Michael Plekon is professor emeritus of the City University of New York, Baruch College. He has served as a priest for over forty years in both western and eastern churches and has authored numerous publications including Ministry Matters (Cascade, 2024); Community as Church, Church as Community (Cascade, 2021); The World as Sacrament; Uncommon Prayer; Saints as They Really Are; Hidden Holiness; and Living Icons.