An Hour a Week & a room full of books....

I'm laughing a little at myself about this past week, 'cause this "quarter-time" light duty is gonna be the death of me! I don't know that I ever really believed it, but I think on some level I WANTED to believe that old, naive stereotype that preachers really only had to work "an hour a week" (Sunday Mornings), and the rest of our time was ours to spend as we wished: visiting the members of our congregation ("our people," as our 19th century forebearers called them -- and generally some of the most interesting people on the planet at that); or working in the community for justice and reform (one can ALWAYS find something to engage one's passions there); or (my personal favorite) cloistered away in one's extensive private library studying the Scriptures and engaged in the contemplative intellectual discipleship for which the Unitarian ministry in particular has historically been so well known.

And now all of a sudden I have this opportunity -- the means and the motive as well -- and for some inexplicable just can't seem to pull the trigger. The books are just sitting there waiting for me. My insurance company is paying my salary; I have two fantastic colleagues on a "Ministerial Support Team" poised to take over all of that "day to day" mundane ministerial administrivia (as well as the more important Pastoral Care and Counseling duties), and yet I can't seem to keep myself from sticking my nose into things - Tuesday staff meeting, Wednesday Men's Luncheon, Thursday Trustees meeting, a day-long leadership retreat Saturday. And honestly now? Which of those things could I really afford to "blow off?" Truth be told, there is really no such thing as a part-time ministry, much less a part-time MInister. I am what I am wherever I go, and I don't stop "being" the minister simply because I can't "do" as much as I'm accustomed to doing (much less all that needs to be done - which quite frankly none of us could ever hope to do anyway).

I suspect that "old school" clergy (who essentially "grew up" in the profession) have always known and understood this in ways that subsequent generations of "mature," second-career seminarians will never fully or truly understand. But maybe that's not fair either. The whole world has changed, and a changing ministry only reflects those changes. In the rubric of the global information economy, clergy are characterized as "content providers" first, while the esoteric duties of serving as the spiritual leaders of faith communities simply don't fit easily into the more fungible "middle management" job classifications employment economists are comfortable with. If "ministry" were merely institutional administration, then any middle-aged middle-manager could easily step into the job without missing a step or skipping a beat. But in many ways, my present illness represents an opportunity for me to explore the exact opposite tack. How much of that other can be stripped away in order to allow me the liberty of pursuing the most important element of ministry of all: following the pathway that will lead me closer to God, and leading others along that same path as well, in ways that are honest and authentic and faithful and true?

Well, that's enough of that for now. My duties last Sunday were limited to welcoming folks to church and leading the Moment for All Ages. Not entirely light duty, but not exactly heavy lifting either....