A Sermon by the Reverend Ellen Rowse Spero
First Parish Unitarian Universalist Church,
Chelmsford, Massachusetts
September 24, 2004
Copyright 2004, Ellen Rowse Spero. All rights reserved.
There is the famous saying of Jesus that one does not put new wine in old wineskins. There is no record of his comments, if any, on placing old wine in new wineskins. That, however, is what shared ministry is. It is a new term for something that we have been doing all along. Somewhere, someone said, "hey, what we are doing here is shared ministry!" and probably put that phrase into a workshop they gave, and the next thing you know, it is bouncing around official UUA circles. Ministers and lay leaders go to General Assembly or to a district meeting and hear about this great new idea and bring it back to their congregations. They listen and then say, "wait, what are you talking about? We are doing fine, why are you trying to change things?" I saw this phenomenon a lot when I was teaching. Someone would appear and tell us about a great new curriculum with lots of bells and whistles that turned out to be what we were already doing, only you had to go to workshops.
I don’t think that shared ministry is a bad thing. It is a good thing because it helps us recognize and reclaim something that has been lost over the last few decades. But I do not think that it is new. Ministry has been a shared endeavor since the very founding of the early church. You don’t have to agree with Paul’s theology in the Bible to appreciate his ability to organize and empower congregations and to help the individual members keep their eyes on the purpose and the prize: to serve one another and the world in the name of the greater good, the larger love that holds and connects us all. That is ministry: service in the name of, to make manifest, the greater good, the larger love.
Over the last fifty years, religious leaders and professionals began to analyze congregations in comparison to non-profits and to families. In focusing on "programs" and "products" and "growth plans" and "marketing", "matriarchs and patriarchs" and "family systems", many lost sight of the fact that religious communities are neither. They share characteristics with them but they are not the same. In some ways, a religious community is like a nonprofit organization: its members try to create programs that serve the larger community. However, they are not focused on a single goal, like finding the cure for a specific disease, ending a social ill, or providing quality television to our viewers. These may be part of a larger vision and individual members may work for such an end, but we do not as an organization garner all our resources toward one. In some ways, a religious community is like a family: members support one another through difficult times, share in one another’s joys and sorrows, raise children, fight and argue, celebrate and have fun. But congregations are not families. Members are here by choice, and can come and go in a way that one cannot in families. Congregations have by-laws and budgets and other institutional structures that are not true of most families.
Religious communities are different because people come to them for a wide range of reasons, some they cannot even articulate. People also come bearing different mixtures of gifts and needs that change over the years. We may start out here because we wanted a place for our children to come for their religious education. But after they have grown up and moved on, we may still be here for the company of friends and opportunity for worship. We may have come here in a time of crisis, looking for a safe haven. Now we are well past it, but remain here, finding ways to support others. We may come here because we have abandoned the religion of our youth but in time, we may recognize that we have developed a newer and deeper appreciation of faith, even the one we left behind. The combinations and changes are endless. Each person’s story is different. There are times we need more and times we give more.
So, part of our shared ministry is knowing and tending to the state of our own souls, our own being. Knowing how we are doing is important: what do we need? What gifts do we have? What is the balance? What gives us life and brings us healing? What matters most to us? What to do we love? You heard me ask these questions last week, in the context of covenant. Our growing our own souls in community helps us connect to one another, to discern this covenant together. How do we do justice, embrace compassion, and walk attentively on the path with the Holy? We can use programs like Small Group Ministry and Evensong to do this work in the context of a smaller group and at a deeper level. My hope is that those of you who participate in these groups will grow in understanding of your own faith and spirituality as well as in deeper connections to this congregation and to what you name as your source of being.
Another way we grow our own souls is by reaching out to others. That is why shared ministry has always been part of religious community. Ever since people have gathered together in the name of the greater good or larger love or source of being and tried to bring some sense of healing or wholeness to the world, there has been shared ministry. Making phone calls, sending cards or bringing meals to people ill or in grief: that’s a ministry. Teaching and tending to our children and youth so they can grow their vibrant and unique souls, that is a ministry. Making newcomers and new members welcome, preparing coffee and snacks for social hour or organizing social events, these are ministries. Taking care of the building and its grounds, that’s a ministry. Sharing one’s gift of music in worship, that is a ministry. Serving in a leadership position and taking on the responsibility for the fiscal and institutional health of the congregation, that is a ministry. Going out in the world to live your faith in action by serving food to or building homes for the homeless or supporting a refugee or attending a vigil in support of human rights, these are ministries. Shared ministry is simply a term to help us remember the context in which we tend to one another, reach out to the world, and seek to bring a sense of healing and wholeness. Shared ministry is one way of expressing our covenant, of giving depth and meaning to what matters most, of giving hands and voice to what we love.
The next question about shared ministry is "well, if we are all doing shared ministry, what does the minister do?" I do what ministers have always done: I preach, I provide the pastoral care, I see to the day-to-day workings of the church, I work with the lay leaders, I dedicate our children and officiate at the marriages of our couples and help families mourn their loved ones. I visit with those facing illness or loss. I keep us connected with the larger UU world and with the Chelmsford interfaith community. I bring my professional training and background to my work. I walk with you in all the ways that the office of minister requires. I am called to this ministry. This means two things. First, this is my vocation. I had a classic experience of God’s call to ministry: a powerful voice telling me that this is what I am. I went through seminary and the UUA credentialing process, affirming my call in my religious tradition. As my mentor Rev. Bob Whitten said at my ordination, I have been given a sacred trust. This does not mean that I am special or better or worthier. It simply means that I have been offered and have accepted the privilege of walking with people in the ordinary and extraordinary moments of their lives, of bearing witness to their joys, sorrows, and struggles, of naming the presence of the holy and the sacred, of giving voice to those who are forgotten, and of recalling us to our best ourselves, to the possibilities of justice, of wholeness, and of love. Second, I have been called by you to serve this particular congregation at this particular time. This means that I do all of the above in the context of my covenant with you. You have given me the sacred trust of serving as minister to all of you as best I can. I am not a volunteer. I am the minister. I don’t stop being the minister when I leave the building or after 5 p.m. I have the responsibility of being present to you, of listening when that is needed, or speaking out. I am responsible for seeing to the integrity, well-being and safety of the ministry while I am here. This covenant holds as long as you and I agree that it is mutually beneficial. But when I leave, whether that is in forty months or forty years, I will still be a minister. And when I leave, you will still be the congregation, carrying on all the ministries I described above. In our tradition of covenant, of congregational polity, I lead in partnership and I do ministry in partnership with you. For we create and nurture is larger than us. It does not belong to any one of us alone. As it was here when we came, it will be here when we are gone.
At the Standing Committee retreat this summer, the committee members raised concerns and needs they saw in the congregation. One was volunteer burnout and the need for leadership development. They asked me to take the lead on addressing this. How do we tend to our own souls and the soul of this congregation in such a way that we thrive: individually and as a church community? I believe it begins by connecting the work, the ministry, that needs to get done for this congregation to function back to why we have come here, why we stay, the gifts and needs we bring.
So, I return to the question I asked last week: what matters most to you? What do you love with the depth of your soul that brings you here? What do you hope for? How do you do justice, love compassion and walk attentively on the path with the Holy? How do we do these things together? Here begins our shared ministry.