But Our Eyes Keep Looking to the Horizon for the Masked Rider
The consultant author of this post, David Brubaker, writes that congregations struggling with change (in other words, all congregations) often look for a dynamic leader who can turn things around. The benefits, he explains, are often short-term and over the course of five years can do more damage than good.
He calls it Lone Ranger leadership. (It’s probably misnamed. More about that later.)
What Brubaker describes as Lone Ranger leadership is exactly the model that is promoted by regional leadership. They even send their own Lone Ranger in. They call it an Interim Pastor. The Interim Pastor is supposed to turn things around or at least head things in the right direction before riding off into the sunset.
Congregations are expected to call a pastor not only as spiritual leader and resident theologian but also as chief executive officer. It is an unwritten rule of church leadership, a carryover from the centuries we spent in the Middle Ages. We thought we left this behind somewhere in the last 500 years of Reformation, but we keep reverting. The pastor is the boss.
Consultant Brubaker is right. This doesn’t work. Consultants aren’t likely to say so (it would be biting the hand that feeds) but the pastor as CEO may be the root of church decline.
If you read congregational constitutions, you will find that it isn’t meant to work. Most church constitutions (at least in the Lutheran tradition) assign most leadership roles to the people.
This is as it should be. The people will outlast any single leader. They carry the mantle of the congregation’s culture into the home and community. They or their descendants will be there in the pew long after a pastor decides to move on for whatever reason.
That doesn’t mean the lay culture is always right. Nor does it mean that lay culture cannot or should not budge. Skills must be honed and updated. Procedures tweaked. Customs enhanced, if not changed. The true role of leadership is to make sure the congregation is empowered to lead—not just comply.
It all comes down to love.
A loving leader can put aside personal agenda for the good of the group and for individual’s within the group. A loving leader sees each member as more than a statistic. A loving leader applauds fledgling leadership efforts and helps without criticism when they flutter without flying.
A loving leader knows that true growth is a slow process—that those fifty new members that came as a result of an initial charismatic offering might not be in it for the long haul.
Yet every time there is a congregational change, the “search committee” will be tempted and encouraged to look for leadership that will override the local leaders—the long-haul leaders. (In Redeemer’s case, the local leaders were all but asked to leave before everyone was locked out!)
Most congregational conflict is a predictable turf war in that regard. Unless leaders —both lay and clergy— adopt the biblical model of humility in a search for justice, mercy and compassion.
But let’s get back to the Lone Ranger. He —with Tonto— rode into help at the sign of trouble. He empowered the people he helped. He provided the help they needed—no more than that. He didn’t look for credit or reward. That silver bullet he left behind was a way of saying, “Glad to be of service. Now you can do it. Take it from here!”
The texts for Mothers Day (that nonliturgical church holiday) focus on the image of Jesus as shepherd. He is the great gatekeeper. He knows our voice. We recognize His voice.
In Lent, 2×2 published a slideshow based on Psalm 23. That is the psalm for this Sunday, too.
Here is the link if you’d like to reuse the images from this presentation.
Today’s object is a U-turn sign.
You can make your own or find one online to print.
Today’s gospel is a familiar story.
It describes the chaos of the first Easter morning. The news is just starting to circulate about the appearance of the risen Lord.
Many weren’t sure they wanted to take the word of the women who claimed to see the Lord. But their story was backed up by the disciples. Still, it was pretty incredible and who knew what the news meant.
These disciples, Cleopas and his unnamed friend, decide it is a good idea to leave town.
A stranger joins them and spends the two-hour walk explaining the recent happenings in light of scripture. It must have been a pleasant and intriguing conversation because the two disciples invite the stranger to spend the night.
Dinner is served. The conversation continues. And then the stranger breaks bread.
The veil is lifted. The disciples recognize Jesus.
Jesus vanishes.
That’s where the story often stops in our minds. But reread the last verses with your congregation.
Cleopas and friend pretty much leave the dishes on the table and retrace their two-hour journey. They suddenly want to be back with the others. Suddenly, even the setting of the sun on a dark country road couldn’t stop them.
They join the remaining eleven disciples and share their story.
They make a U-turn.
What confused them hours ago now energizes them. What had them on the run now has them wanting to be in the thick of things—no longer looking out for themselves, no longer doubting their colleagues.
This is a common thread of the post-Resurrection appearance stories.
Thomas did his U-turn in last week’s gospel story.
What do we need in our lives to turn us on our heels and head back to the Lord? How do we put our doubt and fear for our own safety aside and get to work?
Feel free to share!
Thank you.
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The story is simple. Two disciples are returning home from Jerusalem on that first Easter. They had heard the news that Jesus had risen from the dead—or so some women had reported
A stranger—a very knowledgable stranger—joins them and explains the day’s events in light of scripture.
The travelers invite the stranger to stay with them. He breaks bread with them. They recognize him as the Lord.
Then Jesus vanishes.
The two disciples backtrack to Jerusalem that very hour. They have their own news to share.
The first two scenes— Jesus walking with the two disciples and Jesus breaking bread with them—are favorites with artists. The last scene—the return to Jerusalem—is rarely depicted.
How would you imagine that scene?
Feel free to share!
Thank you.
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Where the Church Resists Change the Most!Historically, pastors play a pivotal role in faith communities. They are the on site expert in religion—the resident theologians. They are caretakers and catalysts. They nurture faith and shape community. They make sure we believe the right things and behave accordingly.
Traditionally, they perform ministerial tasks in isolation. As long as things run smoothly, they have no reason to interact with authority or colleagues. No one questions their wisdom.
Years ago, a child in our church came to me. He was upset. His dog had died and he wanted to know what had happened to his beloved pet. Was his pet in heaven?
We were often without a pastor and the child came for help to the person he knew and trusted.
But we had a new pastor. I suggested to the boy that he take his question to the new pastor. It would help build relationship, I thought.
I was sorry I did.
The new pastor didn’t see the pain in the boy’s eyes. He began a discourse—something about heaven being for souls and animals have no souls and therefore there are no animals in heaven. The boy walked away in distress — faith-hindering distress.
The new pastor, eager to impress with authority and knowledge, confident in His role as theologian, had missed the opportunity to heal and nurture.
The boy needed to know that his dog’s life mattered, and though he felt powerless to help—that somehow his dog was still loved.
That boy would seek comfort elsewhere. Wouldn’t any of us?
The world has changed. The role of pastor must change, too. If we are people of faith looking for comfort or inspiration and we aren’t finding it within our congregation, we are going to look elsewhere.
This isn’t any different than any other realm of modern society. We are all faced with challenges to our expertise and demands to work and think differently. Job descriptions are being rewritten daily!
We can’t live in isolation any longer.
Seekers will look for answers beyond the pulpit. They will find meaning in spiritual teachings of other faiths. In that sense the role of pastor is more important.
But most pastors aren’t active in the venues where spiritual discussions are taking place. They are still waiting for people to come to them on Sunday morning—a narrow window of opportunity.
The Church faces choices. Build walls around our beliefs. Make rules. Rein in the seekers. Manufacture penalties for those who disagree or challenge. Circle the wagons. Celebrate the past. Hope that it will last a little longer.
This is the road chosen more often than the Church will admit.
OR
Use curiosity and modern communication as tools. Find teaching moments among the questions asked. Juxtapose ideas (a favorite exercise among creative thinkers). Weave new ideas in with the old. Find points of agreement and understanding. Live in today’s world—the same world the congregation faces daily. Understand our neighbors who believe differently. Befriend them.
Recognize that members will find spiritual leaders online. Help them find the good ones! Follow them yourself!
The same thing is happening in the secular world. Authorities in every venue must keep up with online competition.
The answer is to be part of spiritual dialog—whether it is in your fellowship hall or online. Build on it.
Failure to do this is making the Church seem archaic and out of touch.
Ignoring this will not make it go away.
Jesus Takes to the Road—Again!We are in Lectionary Year A. We are reading mostly from the gospels of Matthew and John. This week’s gospel lesson is from Luke. The reason: the account of this early appearance of the Risen Lord is an important part of the Resurrection narrative, but it is found only in Luke.
This appearance predates last week’s gospel—the appearance of the Risen Lord to the disciple, Thomas.
The travelers on the road to Emmaus have just left Jerusalem. (They were getting out of Dodge.)
It is still the third day. The news of Jesus’ Resurrection is fresh, and remember—Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead only days before. It is all a puzzle—a frightening puzzle.
The sun has yet to set on this first Easter. Cleopas and friend head in the opposite direction from the action.
You can run but you can’t hide.
Normally this hike might take two or three hours but they are probably high-tailing it.
They are troubled and discussing what had happened.
They had probably been in Jerusalem for the Passover. They may have been part of the Palm Sunday crowd. They may have witnessed some or even all of the trial, torture and crucifixion of Jesus. Perhaps they had cried for Barabbas.
The news of Jesus Resurrection comes to them as they are crushed with sorrow and perhaps guilt. If Jesus was alive, what would He think of the crowd of people who allowed Him to suffer?
They had hoped that this Jesus was the Messiah. Now they weren’t so sure. These disciples may have been doubting their own judgment or hiding their own culpability.
The news was confusing—disheartening.
Enter a stranger. Why not invite him to join them? Safety in numbers.
Imagine how the conversation might have gone. They probably spent some time scoping out the stranger. What did he know? How could he not know?
It is clear from the scripture that Jesus takes control of the conversation early on. They walk. Jesus explains.
In the end, they are trusting enough that they invite the stranger to spend the night—or did they want to keep an eye on Him?
The revelation comes with the breaking of bread—the sign—even today—of God’s presence among us.
The account of the Jesus’ appearance on the road to Emmaus, His revelation over dinner, and His sudden disappearance before the dishes were washed and put away is a favorite topic for artists. It became particularly popular in the mid 16th and 17th centuries when artists began to focus on domestic scenes, especially kitchen scenes and still life art in general.
An amazing part of this story is the long-standing assumption that both travelers were men. Luke leaves out this detail. One is named Cleopas. We know nothing about Traveler Number 2. And yet virtually all depictions show two men encountering Christ along the road.
Some modern scholars make the argument that the fact that one traveler is named and the other is not is evidence that the second traveler may very well have been female.
Is it so hard to imagine that these pilgrims visiting Jerusalem for the holidays might be husband and wife? That the invitation to enter their home was issued by the woman who would be setting the dinner table and preparing the food?
For 2000 years, we accept the prejudices of artists and we see two men traveling and sitting at the table with the stranger.
Perhaps that is why the portrayal of this scene by Diego Velázquez is so intriguing. We see the scene from the kitchen. The three travelers are talking at the dinner table in the background—but wait—only two of them are visible. A woman of color is preparing the food. Just look at her face to read her story. Is she the second traveler? Is she a servant? Velazquez intended that we see her as a maid, but that can’t stop us from imagining!
What is she is thinking?
Perhaps she returns to the table. And then the stranger disappears.
What would you do? What do Cleopas and his significant other do?
They head back to Jerusalem. Suddenly, they want to be where the action is!
A Poisoned Church Structure Resists AntidotesThe Synod Assembly is the business arm of the churches that band together within the denomination. There are limits to their power—but if people don’t take part, they can get away with anything. That “anything” could affect you!
In recent years, the Annual Synod Assembly has been less about business and more of a showcase for leadership. Elaborate worship with all the stops pulled fills the time once allocated for debate and deliberation. New ideas? By the time you get to new business, most of the delegates have gone home.
Synod Assemblies are comprised of all rostered pastors and at least two delegates from each member church.
Pastors are required to attend or provide a good excuse.
Many will do no more than report to the registration table to sign in, gab with some friends in the lobby, and walk out the door. Why?
We’d have to ask them, but we suspect they feel that the agenda is pre-approved and they can’t make a difference—so why spend two work days trying?
And then we get to lay representation. What a mess!
When the ELCA formed 25 years ago, leaders were full of grand ideas. The ELCA was going to be inclusive. Everyone who was denied representation for decades would now have a voice.
Result: The quota system—the convoluted and ineffective quota system. It starts with allowing two delegates from each congregation, one male and one female, but adds delegates to fill special criteria — race, multilingual, youth. The extra votes must be approved somewhere along the way—another control factor.
So now we have Synod Assemblies, voting on issues that affect everyone, that are comprised of loyalist pastors and lay people — many of whom are present because they fill the quota need—not because they know anything at all about Church government or Church issues.
There is another determining factor in some synods that skews the decision-making process—the growing use of mission, bridge and interim pastors. These pastors actually work for the synod and so have a bias to their employer. In Southeastern Pennsylvania about 25% of congregations have pastors who work as bridge, mission, or interim pastors.
The formula creates a corporate ecosystem that protects abuse.
Leaders know they don’t have to make a good argument. Who will question them?
Consequently, we are experiencing a slow-motion implosion.
We’ll use Redeemer’s experience to illustrate and imagine that similar conditions exist in other congregations.
The quota system hurt Redeemer. The rule that you must have one male and one female delegate is supposed to increase participation by women. But Redeemer had strong participation among women for decades. In the early days of the ELCA we had a church council with nine women and one man. The man wasn’t interested in attending Synod Council. Several of the women didn’t want to take off work for a meeting at the periphery of the five-county area that constitutes our synod. So, we, like many congregations, sent representatives who were willing to go—not necessarily representatives who understood church issues.
There are other ELCA rules designed to give minorities greater voice. Congregations with significant diversity or which are multilingual are granted more votes under the quota system. Redeemer, over the course of ten years, became both racially diverse and multilingual. Our Black members and our Swahili/German/French-speaking members were not recognized by synod so we were never allowed extra representatives.
And then our congregation dared to challenge a decision of the bishop—a right of any ELCA congregation. Suddenly, just days before the 2009 Synod Assembly, we were informed that we would not be allowed ANY representation. We were officially terminated. We were already registered. Our fees had been paid and accepted. But we were out. Just like that.
This was still another decision of the bishop which we had a right to challenge constitutionally. But our rights were denied and synod leadership made sure that we had no voice.
This is against the stated parliamentary rules of a Lutheran Synod. If a member is denied representation, the entire Assembly is invalid. But the abuse of the system is so great that it is guaranteed no one will speak up. Business as usual.
There is no place within the ELCA to register a complaint. We know. We tried. Presiding bishops ignore us. ELCA lawyers feel no obligation to enforce Lutheran law. Secular courts don’t want to be involved. Anarchy!
We suspect this problem plagues other synods within the ELCA structure.
The structure of the ELCA is seriously flawed.
The people who could fix it are part of the problem, don’t care, or have been replaced by the quota system.
Consequently, Synod Assemblies claim governance rights not part of their constitution. They cover this up with ceremony—lots of ceremony. They do this well. The observers leave impressed and unaware that their voice has been silenced with lights and mirrors.
With the quota system, leaders have assumed the right to approve of lay participation—choosing for congregations who can speak for them. We’ve addressed a democratic ideal by instituting an undemocratic process! It doesn’t matter what you know if you can’t claim the appropriate gender.
We ask again . . .
PS: The annual Assembly of the Southeastern Pennsylvania Synod is barely two weeks away. We won’t be there again—by edict of the bishop. No one is likely to question our absence.
What does the modern Christian look like?Wait! Don’t answer that question! Not yet!
I’m reminded of a song we learned as children—probably taught by my missionary grandparents.
Just around the corner lives a stranger child.
Did you smile at him? Were you kind to him?
Did you tell her of the one who loves us all?
Father, Comforter and Friend.
Evangelism is a simple concept that the Church complicates.
The simple formula:
This is easier for missionaries because they accept themselves as the stranger. They understand that everyone they talk to is coming from a different place.
Congregations, on the other hand, look for community. The search for community leads us to people like us.
The Gospel tells us this is wrong. Most of the gospel is one story after another about reaching out to people with whom we are unlikely to associate—except for our faith.
We are birds of a feather. We naturally flock together.
If we don’t believe it, there are church consultants ready to educate us.
“The demographics do not support having a ministry here”—as if the communities they are addressing exist in a wasteland. They’ll be careful when they explain. They don’t want to seem judgmental or aloof or—well, racist.
They’ll point to census reports on household income, etc. This is what they mean: The people like you have fled to the suburbs. Whoops, they forgot their wallets! We’ll help you with that.
This is an adoption of slumlord thinking. Taking from neighborhoods replaces any shred of caring and giving.
Church leaders have so narrowly defined their job descriptions that they don’t leave room for mission anymore. Mission work requires creativity and edginess.
It is the reason we exist.
The economics of church paralyze us and stand between us and our future.
Demographic experts don’t know more than we. We know our neighborhoods. We are all too willing to pay our dwindling offering money to justify failure—and this includes the failure of church leaders.
What do modern Christians look like? Look around. They are closer than you think.
Just around the corner lives a stranger child . . .
Here is a skit you might enjoy acting out on Stewardship Sunday.
