Alban Weekly from The Duke Divinity School in Durham, North Carolina, United States "PRACTICAL WISDOM FOR LEADING CONGREGATIONS: Our discernment processes don’t often consider the physical sustainability of our work, but Christian leaders have a theological obligation to explore this question, writes a managing director of Leadership Education at Duke Divinity." for Monday, 17 October 2016
Faith & Leadership
HEALTH & WELL-BEING, PHYSICAL HEALTH
Gretchen E. Ziegenhals: Will this work make me sick?
Will This Work Make Me Sick?-ASKING ABOUT THE PHYSICAL SUSTAINABILITY OF MINISTRY"
Our discernment processes don’t often consider the physical sustainability of our work, but Christian leaders have a theological obligation to explore this question, writes a managing director of Leadership Education at Duke Divinity.
Our discernment processes don’t often consider the physical sustainability of our work, but Christian leaders have a theological obligation to explore this question, writes a managing director of Leadership Education at Duke Divinity.
Those of us involved in Christian institutions and churches often work to protect other people whose bodies are oppressed, abused, trapped in violent situations or discriminated against. But we don’t often stop to think about how well our own bodies sustain the work we are called to do.
In a recent conversation with a friend contemplating a career move, we carefully examined all the angles: What work is she called to do? What work is she most gifted to do? What is her passion?
But later, it occurred to me that we had missed a crucial question: What work can she physically sustain? What work and how much work can her body take?
Like so many Christian leaders I have met over the years, this wonderful friend is serving God to the fullest -- in an institution, a church and the academy at the same time. She is using all of her talents. She is young enough that she may not yet have considered this question of physical sustainability, but in time, she will need to.
As Christian leaders and as creatures in God’s creation, we have a theological obligation to ask the question, “Will this work make me sick?”
The Clergy Health Initiative(link is external), a 10-year program to assess and improve the health and well-being of United Methodist clergy in North Carolina, has documented findings about the high rates of work-related illness among clergy. Researchers have found that pastors’ health and vocations are affected as they try to balance work, home, family and friends. The sense of call that we feel as Christian leaders often prevents us from recognizing when enough is enough -- even as we develop high blood pressure, diabetes, depression and heart disease.
The Clergy Health Initiative works to underscore “the theological reasons for caring for oneself” and to offer strategies to help pastors develop holistic health practices. Ideally, Christian leaders will learn to implement more of these strategies on the front end of our work, as we decide what and how much we can do, rather than be faced with how to cope in the aftermath of a physical collapse.
I have witnessed such collapses over years of working with Christian leaders who are physically affected by the strains of their work. Some have developed illnesses from working too much; others, from the stress of the work itself. My work with more than 50 seminary and divinity school deans has taught me that these workhorses are particularly vulnerable. I’ve met several deans who have had heart attacks from managing an overwhelming array of details, conflicts, people and programs without sufficient money, time or support.
Christian leaders work hard, in part, because we know we are doing God’s work. St. Teresa of Avila wrote, “Christ has no body now on earth but yours; no hands but yours; no feet but yours.” Even so, if we are to take her charge seriously, we must take care of our bodies so that we will be equipped to continue Christ’s ministry through those bodies.
Taking care includes good nutrition, periods of exercise and rest, and time off from screens. For me, taking care in the midst of my evolving roles as professional, spouse, mother, caregiver of an elderly father, church member, friend and community member means in part paying attention. My body, my spouse and my friends teach me where my boundaries lie, if I will remember to pay attention to their wise voices.
As the linchpin of my balance, I have over the last nine years saved most Fridays for Sabbath. In the stillness of my Sabbath Fridays, I exercise, putter in my house, meet a friend for lunch, play with our dogs, paint or read. I try to rest both mind and body. I can tell the difference in my body when I don’t take my Fridays.
What is good stewardship of your body? And how can you work to protect those who do not have a choice about the stewardship of their bodies?
I know Christian leaders who rise early to exercise and pray, who ride their bikes or walk to work, take frequent three-day weekends rather than wait for a two-week vacation in the summer, walk or practice yoga on their lunch hours, stand at their desks, and set their phones to mindfulness chimes every three hours. These preventive measures all help.
But how can we think differently about the work itself and what we can physically manage? It is not simply about having that little plastic gizmo on our desks -- the “NO” button -- that says “No!” in three different ways when we push it. Or repeating to ourselves, “I’m not on that committee” when we try to control too much.
It is about those things and creating jobs that are “small enough to do and big enough to matter,” as Dave Odom, the executive director of Leadership Education at Duke Divinity, writes.
If you supervise others, are you attentive and respectful about creating jobs that can actually be done? Are you willing to help others think through the question, “Will this work make me sick?” If the answer is yes, can you be creative about reassigning, recombining or rethinking tasks?
These are, at root, not questions of calling or of gifts; these are fundamental theological issues. We are embodied servants of God. God thought that bodies were important enough that God became embodied in Jesus. Jesus’ ministries were about healing, touching, feeding, reconciling and resurrecting bodies.
Christian leaders may need all of these healthy mindsets, as well as the theological reminder that we are creatures, not the Creator. As creatures, we are blessed to have limits within which we function best. Yes, we are God’s hands and feet on earth, but more is not necessarily better for us, our physical functioning or our constituents. Celebrating our creatureliness means celebrating and caring for the bodies we are in and recognizing when our work is harming those bodies.
What is your balance? Your tipping point? What are the signals your own body sends when you can’t physically sustain the work you are doing? What are your choices? Do your colleagues or congregation members support you in those choices?
If your institution is short-staffed and under-budget, what one small change could you make to care for your body or the bodies of your staff? Could you do a bit less, or something different, in order to celebrate and honor your creatureliness?
In a recent conversation with a friend contemplating a career move, we carefully examined all the angles: What work is she called to do? What work is she most gifted to do? What is her passion?
But later, it occurred to me that we had missed a crucial question: What work can she physically sustain? What work and how much work can her body take?
Like so many Christian leaders I have met over the years, this wonderful friend is serving God to the fullest -- in an institution, a church and the academy at the same time. She is using all of her talents. She is young enough that she may not yet have considered this question of physical sustainability, but in time, she will need to.
As Christian leaders and as creatures in God’s creation, we have a theological obligation to ask the question, “Will this work make me sick?”
The Clergy Health Initiative(link is external), a 10-year program to assess and improve the health and well-being of United Methodist clergy in North Carolina, has documented findings about the high rates of work-related illness among clergy. Researchers have found that pastors’ health and vocations are affected as they try to balance work, home, family and friends. The sense of call that we feel as Christian leaders often prevents us from recognizing when enough is enough -- even as we develop high blood pressure, diabetes, depression and heart disease.
The Clergy Health Initiative works to underscore “the theological reasons for caring for oneself” and to offer strategies to help pastors develop holistic health practices. Ideally, Christian leaders will learn to implement more of these strategies on the front end of our work, as we decide what and how much we can do, rather than be faced with how to cope in the aftermath of a physical collapse.
I have witnessed such collapses over years of working with Christian leaders who are physically affected by the strains of their work. Some have developed illnesses from working too much; others, from the stress of the work itself. My work with more than 50 seminary and divinity school deans has taught me that these workhorses are particularly vulnerable. I’ve met several deans who have had heart attacks from managing an overwhelming array of details, conflicts, people and programs without sufficient money, time or support.
Christian leaders work hard, in part, because we know we are doing God’s work. St. Teresa of Avila wrote, “Christ has no body now on earth but yours; no hands but yours; no feet but yours.” Even so, if we are to take her charge seriously, we must take care of our bodies so that we will be equipped to continue Christ’s ministry through those bodies.
Taking care includes good nutrition, periods of exercise and rest, and time off from screens. For me, taking care in the midst of my evolving roles as professional, spouse, mother, caregiver of an elderly father, church member, friend and community member means in part paying attention. My body, my spouse and my friends teach me where my boundaries lie, if I will remember to pay attention to their wise voices.
As the linchpin of my balance, I have over the last nine years saved most Fridays for Sabbath. In the stillness of my Sabbath Fridays, I exercise, putter in my house, meet a friend for lunch, play with our dogs, paint or read. I try to rest both mind and body. I can tell the difference in my body when I don’t take my Fridays.
What is good stewardship of your body? And how can you work to protect those who do not have a choice about the stewardship of their bodies?
I know Christian leaders who rise early to exercise and pray, who ride their bikes or walk to work, take frequent three-day weekends rather than wait for a two-week vacation in the summer, walk or practice yoga on their lunch hours, stand at their desks, and set their phones to mindfulness chimes every three hours. These preventive measures all help.
But how can we think differently about the work itself and what we can physically manage? It is not simply about having that little plastic gizmo on our desks -- the “NO” button -- that says “No!” in three different ways when we push it. Or repeating to ourselves, “I’m not on that committee” when we try to control too much.
It is about those things and creating jobs that are “small enough to do and big enough to matter,” as Dave Odom, the executive director of Leadership Education at Duke Divinity, writes.
If you supervise others, are you attentive and respectful about creating jobs that can actually be done? Are you willing to help others think through the question, “Will this work make me sick?” If the answer is yes, can you be creative about reassigning, recombining or rethinking tasks?
These are, at root, not questions of calling or of gifts; these are fundamental theological issues. We are embodied servants of God. God thought that bodies were important enough that God became embodied in Jesus. Jesus’ ministries were about healing, touching, feeding, reconciling and resurrecting bodies.
Christian leaders may need all of these healthy mindsets, as well as the theological reminder that we are creatures, not the Creator. As creatures, we are blessed to have limits within which we function best. Yes, we are God’s hands and feet on earth, but more is not necessarily better for us, our physical functioning or our constituents. Celebrating our creatureliness means celebrating and caring for the bodies we are in and recognizing when our work is harming those bodies.
What is your balance? Your tipping point? What are the signals your own body sends when you can’t physically sustain the work you are doing? What are your choices? Do your colleagues or congregation members support you in those choices?
If your institution is short-staffed and under-budget, what one small change could you make to care for your body or the bodies of your staff? Could you do a bit less, or something different, in order to celebrate and honor your creatureliness?
Read more from Gretchen Ziegenhals »
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IDEAS THAT IMPACT: MINISTRY & WELLNESS
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IDEAS THAT IMPACT: MINISTRY & WELLNESS
Faith & Leadership
How to foster a healthier year in ministry
How to foster a healthier year in ministry
HEALTH & WELL-BEING, SPIRITUAL HEALTH, CHRISTIAN LEADERSHIP
Samuel Rahberg: How to foster a healthier year in ministry
Finding time for solitude with God is a cornerstone to a healthier year in ministry.Bigstock/marcelmooij
Two strategies -- seeking solitude with God and companionship in stewarding one’s vision -- will help good intentions become realities in the new year, writes a spiritual director.
Most Christian leaders can understand the way the most sincere intentions for well-being too easily give way to the everyday demands of ministry. Even so, with the new year upon us, something deep inside refuses to dismiss the impulse of grace and promise in a new beginning.
As a spiritual director, I hear people express both the desire for new beginnings and the sense of being stuck. This reminds me that I am not alone.
Not long ago, for example, I caught myself returning to unhealthy habits. A colleague had resigned, and I picked up her extra duties -- temporarily, I assured myself. I pressed on into an intense stretch of busyness while trying to continue meeting with people one-on-one. I acted as if nothing had changed, and then watched my energy and effectiveness fade.
Most disturbing to me was the realization that I was not listening well -- a practice fundamental to my calling.
Many Christian leaders find that the pressures of ministry are chipping away at their own wellness, their relationship with God and their ability to live out their callings faithfully.
Inevitably, the question becomes, “Now what? How do I best focus the energy I have on the things that feed my soul and ministry?”
Without exception, the most constructive response to that question (for me and for the Christian leaders I serve) is to seek solitude with God and companionship in tending the vision at the core of our callings. I believe that a healthier year in ministry begins with these two practices.
My busy stretch continued with the slightly over-caffeinated and agitated sensation that accompanies survival mode. I hunched my shoulders, lowered my head and kept plowing forward. Yet I realized that, in the words of Thomas Merton, my efforts had begun “destroy[ing] the fruitfulness of [my] own work.”
A weakened sense of vision crept up on me. It is easy to assume that burnout results from long hours, poor habits of eating and sleeping, and unrelenting tensions -- all contributing factors.
Yet the painful outcome of overwork that Merton describes suggests to me that weariness in ministry is also connected to the condition of our vision. We need an alternative to just trying harder, and we need ways to practice tending the indispensable vision at the core of our callings.
One of the problems, I soon realized, was that by staying up later and starting my work earlier, I was squeezing out the opportunity for solitude with God, something that celebrated Christian author and speaker Brennan Manning insists is essential for Christian leaders.
“The indispensable condition for developing and maintaining the awareness of our belovedness is time alone with God,” he writes in “Abba’s Child.”
“Awareness of our belovedness” is not something we can sufficiently absorb by posting a quote near our workspace or adding a tag line to our email signature. The truth of our belovedness is so intimate and powerful that it reaches down beneath our personas, beneath our roles, beneath every strategy to produce good that we have learned.
The mystery of the true self in every Christian leader -- in any disciple, for that matter -- is located in a place that is found only by sinking.
It is in this deep place, Manning argues, that we find our identity and strength for ministry, not because our willpower becomes supercharged, but because we are saturated by God’s “relentless tenderness.” For me, and for all Christian leaders, this precious solitude with God is a cornerstone to a healthier year in ministry.
Few would argue about the importance of solitude with God. Yet how can we sustain our good intentions?
One helpful resource I’ve found is the book “Change Anything.” The authors argue that relying on willpower alone inevitably leads to discouraging ends, and they suggest paying attention to what they call “crucial moments” and “vital behaviors,” as well as rebound strategies.
In my case, I saw a crucial moment for my solitude with God in the early morning hours, before the rest of my family stirs. I identified vital behaviors that would make it easier for me to be more present in the mornings, such as keeping a regular bedtime and keeping my inbox closed until a certain time.
I also noted ways to begin again as gently as possible when I missed a crucial moment. My rebound strategies included giving myself permission to simply start anew the next morning and “turn bad days into good data” by reflecting on what the disappointing experience had to teach me.
This intense stretch in my ministry has reminded me to be attentive to the vision God has planted within me, because that vision carries the tenderness of God, the hopes I have for the church and the world, and the intuitive sense that there is something meaningful for me to contribute to it all.
Yet what had caught my attention was the absence of those very characteristics in my work.
Like many who come to see me, I had allowed my field of view to become narrowed. What began to lift my eyes was renewing my solitude with God and reconnecting with companions who could help me steward my vision.
I believe that all of us benefit from companionship that helps tend the vision of our true identity. As I found myself working harder and feigning self-reliance, a number of other voices kept speaking words of grace and encouragement into my life.
Over coffee, over beer, over conversations about Scripture, they became an important connection to my true self.
When our motivations wane and we find ourselves uncertain and unclear, these companions are the ones who help us keep the questions of calling and ministry in the light.
As we look to the coming year, consider nurturing companionship as another cornerstone for Christian leadership. Find or rekindle peer groups, make standing coffee dates with mentors, interview people you admire, or just make time to reconnect without expectations.
Fostering a healthier year in ministry is not a resolution to be made or an achievement to be earned. It is not ultimately about reducing pressures, improving productivity or increasing our own comfort as Christian leaders. None of that seems durable enough to meet the realities of ministry.
I imagine a church that is bold and hopeful, not because its ranks have hunkered down and fought on headfirst into the wind, but because they slowly and steadily submit to the relentless tenderness of God and cannot resist living out of a sense of their belovedness in Christ.
Read more from Samuel Rahberg »
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Faith & Leadership
As a spiritual director, I hear people express both the desire for new beginnings and the sense of being stuck. This reminds me that I am not alone.
Not long ago, for example, I caught myself returning to unhealthy habits. A colleague had resigned, and I picked up her extra duties -- temporarily, I assured myself. I pressed on into an intense stretch of busyness while trying to continue meeting with people one-on-one. I acted as if nothing had changed, and then watched my energy and effectiveness fade.
Most disturbing to me was the realization that I was not listening well -- a practice fundamental to my calling.
Many Christian leaders find that the pressures of ministry are chipping away at their own wellness, their relationship with God and their ability to live out their callings faithfully.
Inevitably, the question becomes, “Now what? How do I best focus the energy I have on the things that feed my soul and ministry?”
Without exception, the most constructive response to that question (for me and for the Christian leaders I serve) is to seek solitude with God and companionship in tending the vision at the core of our callings. I believe that a healthier year in ministry begins with these two practices.
My busy stretch continued with the slightly over-caffeinated and agitated sensation that accompanies survival mode. I hunched my shoulders, lowered my head and kept plowing forward. Yet I realized that, in the words of Thomas Merton, my efforts had begun “destroy[ing] the fruitfulness of [my] own work.”
A weakened sense of vision crept up on me. It is easy to assume that burnout results from long hours, poor habits of eating and sleeping, and unrelenting tensions -- all contributing factors.
Yet the painful outcome of overwork that Merton describes suggests to me that weariness in ministry is also connected to the condition of our vision. We need an alternative to just trying harder, and we need ways to practice tending the indispensable vision at the core of our callings.
One of the problems, I soon realized, was that by staying up later and starting my work earlier, I was squeezing out the opportunity for solitude with God, something that celebrated Christian author and speaker Brennan Manning insists is essential for Christian leaders.
“The indispensable condition for developing and maintaining the awareness of our belovedness is time alone with God,” he writes in “Abba’s Child.”
“Awareness of our belovedness” is not something we can sufficiently absorb by posting a quote near our workspace or adding a tag line to our email signature. The truth of our belovedness is so intimate and powerful that it reaches down beneath our personas, beneath our roles, beneath every strategy to produce good that we have learned.
The mystery of the true self in every Christian leader -- in any disciple, for that matter -- is located in a place that is found only by sinking.
It is in this deep place, Manning argues, that we find our identity and strength for ministry, not because our willpower becomes supercharged, but because we are saturated by God’s “relentless tenderness.” For me, and for all Christian leaders, this precious solitude with God is a cornerstone to a healthier year in ministry.
Few would argue about the importance of solitude with God. Yet how can we sustain our good intentions?
One helpful resource I’ve found is the book “Change Anything.” The authors argue that relying on willpower alone inevitably leads to discouraging ends, and they suggest paying attention to what they call “crucial moments” and “vital behaviors,” as well as rebound strategies.
In my case, I saw a crucial moment for my solitude with God in the early morning hours, before the rest of my family stirs. I identified vital behaviors that would make it easier for me to be more present in the mornings, such as keeping a regular bedtime and keeping my inbox closed until a certain time.
I also noted ways to begin again as gently as possible when I missed a crucial moment. My rebound strategies included giving myself permission to simply start anew the next morning and “turn bad days into good data” by reflecting on what the disappointing experience had to teach me.
This intense stretch in my ministry has reminded me to be attentive to the vision God has planted within me, because that vision carries the tenderness of God, the hopes I have for the church and the world, and the intuitive sense that there is something meaningful for me to contribute to it all.
Yet what had caught my attention was the absence of those very characteristics in my work.
Like many who come to see me, I had allowed my field of view to become narrowed. What began to lift my eyes was renewing my solitude with God and reconnecting with companions who could help me steward my vision.
I believe that all of us benefit from companionship that helps tend the vision of our true identity. As I found myself working harder and feigning self-reliance, a number of other voices kept speaking words of grace and encouragement into my life.
Over coffee, over beer, over conversations about Scripture, they became an important connection to my true self.
When our motivations wane and we find ourselves uncertain and unclear, these companions are the ones who help us keep the questions of calling and ministry in the light.
As we look to the coming year, consider nurturing companionship as another cornerstone for Christian leadership. Find or rekindle peer groups, make standing coffee dates with mentors, interview people you admire, or just make time to reconnect without expectations.
Fostering a healthier year in ministry is not a resolution to be made or an achievement to be earned. It is not ultimately about reducing pressures, improving productivity or increasing our own comfort as Christian leaders. None of that seems durable enough to meet the realities of ministry.
I imagine a church that is bold and hopeful, not because its ranks have hunkered down and fought on headfirst into the wind, but because they slowly and steadily submit to the relentless tenderness of God and cannot resist living out of a sense of their belovedness in Christ.
Read more from Samuel Rahberg »
-------
Faith & Leadership
Eating faithfully is a key to living faithfully
HEALTH & WELL-BEING, ENVIRONMENT, FOOD
Grace Hackney: Eating faithfully is a key to living faithfully
Photo courtesy of Life Around The TableA North Carolina program for clergy, congregations and communities called Life Around the Table focuses on eating well as a way to nurture healthy Christian communities. The key, as its founder says in this interview, is developing a eucharistic imagination.
The introduction to Life Around the Table starts with meeting Howard the goat. And a cranky rooster. And the small flock of quacking ducks that wander freely on this 12-acre spread on Thunder Mountain in North Carolina.
gracehackney_mug.jpg
gracehackney_mug.jpg
And, of course, Grace Hackney, a United Methodist pastor who has turned her home and gardens into a place of rest, retreat and learning about healthy, sustainable food and faithful eating.Drawing on her experience with the nearby Anathoth Community Garden & Farm(link is external) in Cedar Grove, North Carolina, more than 11 years serving rural churches, and her participation in the Clergy Health Initiative(link is external), Hackney has created the Life Around the Table(link is external) project. Its mission is to invite, equip and encourage clergy, congregations and communities to eat together faithfully.
“I was convinced through my work at Cedar Grove that eating is a theological act and that the church didn’t do a very good job of how it ate or fed other people,” Hackney said. “What was lacking was this eucharistic imagination. If we are people of the table, then there should be this eucharistic imagination that opens that table up, and how we eat is going to matter.”
Funded by $572,000 in grants from The Duke Endowment, Hackney created a small-cohort program for UMC pastors in North Carolina called Sabbath Life that is now in its second year. In addition to monthly retreats, the program features weekly boxes of produce from the Anathoth garden.
In the second phase of the project, Hackney and her two part-time staffers are now writing a curriculum called Eating Together that will extend their work into congregations and their communities. It’s now a UMC program, but they hope to expand it to other denominations as well.
Faith & Leadership spoke with Hackney at her home to talk about faithful eating and how it can transform lives and communities. The following is an edited transcript.
Q: What do you mean by “eucharistic imagination”?
When we use the word “eucharist,” of course, that means thanksgiving. And so thinking about living our life in response to God’s goodness means that we’re living eucharistically.
Big-e Eucharist is, of course, the Eucharist, when we celebrate God’s acts in creation and in new creation through the gift of himself in Christ. When we fully start seeing that meal as a eucharistic activity, as this “great thanksgiving,” which the liturgy is called, it should make us start thinking differently about how we live our lives.
And basic to everything we do is eating.
When we begin to understand our lives as a gift, then we become eucharistic people. And when we become eucharistic people, we’ll start thinking, “How can I live every aspect of my life in a way that I can be grateful for at the end of the day, that this is a gift that God has given us?”
Instead of being people who grab and consume, we’ll become people who receive.
Q: What prompted you to embark on this project?
I was convinced through my work at [Anathoth Community Garden & Farm] that eating is a theological act and that the church didn’t do a very good job of how it ate or fed other people.
What was lacking was this eucharistic imagination. If we are people of the table, then there should be this eucharistic imagination that opens that table up, and how we eat is going to matter.
Because of being 11½ years in rural churches, I felt like I could understand the challenges but also the beauties -- that the rural church actually had something to offer urban churches, and that if urban pastors and rural church pastors spent more time together, they would be able to see those connections.
There was also just the need for clergy to have a safe place where they can practice Sabbath and live into this way of life that’s embodied, again, with this eucharistic imagination and how we eat together and how we share our lives together.
Q: I understand that you started with a survey of the 80-odd churches in your district. What did you ask?
Our question was, “How does the way the church eats reflect God? What does it say about God?”
We wanted to look at three things: how the churches eat just as a church body; how they invite other people to eat, whether it’s for fundraisers or open meals or things like mission-oriented programs; and then what were their eucharistic practices.
We asked the question, “Are there people in your community that are hungry?”
Q: What did you find?
We knew that most churches are situated in communities where there’s someone that’s hungry. But the pastors either said “no” or they said “I’m not sure,” so there was a disconnect in what the pastors actually knew about what was going on in their communities around food.
We also learned that 83 percent of the churches surveyed had communion only once a month or less and that clergy rarely preached about communion -- but that there was a hunger for knowing more.
The church potluck is not what it used to be. We learned that there was a lot of catering that happened or going out to eat in small groups and going to restaurants after worship.
The eating of the community was highly based on things like food pantries, so there was little relationship building with the people served through food giveaways, backpack ministries -- very few community dinners.
There were 13 community gardens in our district, of varying sizes, but most of those did not invite the community to come in and eat that food, which we thought seemed odd.
Q: How did you come to create the clergy part of your program, Sabbath Life?
In 2008, my husband and I went to North Manchester, Indiana, to visit a farmer named Jeff Hawkins who has a program called HOPE CSA(link is external), which stands for Hands-On Pastoral Education using Clergy-Sustaining Agriculture. Jeff had inherited his grandparents’ farm, and he was a clergyperson in North Manchester.
That was the basis for how we envisioned and imagined what Sabbath Life would look like.
Our mission is to invite, encourage and equip clergy, congregations and communities to eat together faithfully. And so we started with the clergy.
It tied in with where I was at the time. Also, we felt that we wanted to start providing clergy rest, because you can’t do prophetic work if you don’t have rest. And the whole concept around eating is really prophetic work. It’s behavioral-change work.
Q: How does Sabbath Life work?
Sabbath Life is invitational to clergy to spend one day apart a month. Part of Sabbath is reconnecting with our origins and with our creatureliness.
They come and work and learn in the garden with organic, regenerative agricultural methods. That’s from 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. We believe that’s fundamental creation work. There are outcomes to that that we might not have imagined, just getting our hands in the dirt, pulling weeds, planting, sowing.
There are so many metaphors that come out of that that a pastor can relate to. We have pasture and pastor, which -- we have adama, which is the soil, and we have Adam. We have even humus and humility.
Something happens when you’re working with creation -- not against it and not for it but with it.
And then from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. is the table aspect of the day. Folks come in and get cleaned up a little, and someone has been preparing food, and folks make themselves at home here. This is their space when they’re here.
And then they help set the table, help do whatever needs to be done, and then we sit down together for worship. I lead worship with the pastors, and we share the peace with each other after we’ve confessed our sins, and then everybody comes to this table, which has already been set with our meal. We come to this table and share Eucharist, share thanksgiving around this table, which is extended to the food that’s been prepared that day.
So we have two full hours around the table. And then from 1 p.m. to 3 p.m., we have shared silence.
Folks have already been asked to not have any of their technology with them that day, which is a big ask of clergy. If they need someone to talk to or pray with, they can tap me or one of the staff on the shoulder and we can do that. We can go for a walk with them if they want. They’re free to read or draw. Someone yesterday brought a quilt they were working on.
Then at 3 p.m., we come back and process our day. And there’s something we’ve been reading together before we’ve come. The first year, we did Ellen Davis’ “Scripture, Culture, and Agriculture.” This year with that group, we’re doing “Making Peace with the Land.”
Q: What are the outcomes you’ve observed?
First of all, all of our first-year pastors wanted to remain, which says that they found something here. And when asked what it was that made them want to remain, we heard things like, “This is not something you do once and get over; it’s a part of our life.”
Others say, “What’s critical for me is practicing Sabbath in community. If I try to do it by myself, it never happens, but to practice Sabbath in community has just been a real gift.” We also have heard that pastors are changing how they eat.
I think the other outcome is that almost all the pastors in the first year said that their understanding of the connection between our daily tables and Christ’s table has become more clear.
Q: What is that connection? What does it mean to eat faithfully?
To eat together faithfully means that we embody a certain way of thinking about our food in which it’s not a consumer product, but it’s a gift. It’s a huge change.
How do you think about sharing food in a hospitable way, such that food is a gift that you’re going to be thankful for and not just a product you’re going to buy?
We’re talking about food as a journey from barrenness to fruitfulness. In the Scriptures, when God created the heavens and the earth, there was a void, so there was this kind of barrenness.
We see this tree of life, this abundant food that will feed the nations, and so we also see God as gardener in Genesis. We see Christ as the new creation, the first fruit of the new creation.
And so looking biblically at that, we started thinking, how do we describe food that is eaten and shared faithfully?
Q: You talk about “food that LAUGHS.” What does that mean?
It’s food that’s local, affordable, uncomplicated, good, healthy and seasonal. The acronym is food that LAUGHS.
We use the story of Abraham and Sarah and the story of the three visitors who come and are shown hospitality in how Abraham and Sarah prepare the food for them. We remember the story about Sarah laughing when they say she’s going to have a baby.
But the part that we forget sometimes is that after Isaac is born, she laughs again. This time it’s not a laugh of skepticism, but it’s a laugh of delight. And not only does she laugh, but the whole community laughs with her, because something they thought had been impossible happened, and nothing is too wonderful for the Lord, which is the phrase that was used [after she first laughed].
And so we’re taking that and applying it to hunger and how we eat. What would it mean if everyone had access to food that LAUGHS, that is delightful. God, after the creation, delighted in what he had made. He said it was very good, tov, which is not really “good”; it’s more like he really delighted in it.
Q: So you want to influence more than eating habits?
Absolutely -- but eating’s central. It influences everything.
Because it’s all based on God’s love for us and the way that God provides these gifts for us, and ultimately gave himself, the gift of Christ, and we can accept that gift or not.
Or we can even accept that gift not fully understanding it, which I think a lot of us do. It’s not just that Jesus died for our sins so that we can be forgiven, though that’s extremely important, but that Jesus also is inaugurating this new creation of which we’re a part, and we don’t have to wait until we die to be part of that. We can be part of it now.
We all know what happens when you sit down with somebody to eat. All of a sudden, we know each other in a different way, and I think if the church could start living into this eucharistic way of eating, that we just might be healthier. And I say “health” in a broad way -- we may reach some shalom among ourselves.
Q: How can clergy take that to their congregations and communities?
We’ve been thinking about and developing this curriculum, called Eating Together, that is the second part of Life Around the Table.
This past spring -- so a year after we started -- we piloted that program with four of the churches with clergy that were in our cohort. We tested some of our ideas with eight weeks of a class that we did with them and their laypeople and anybody in the community that might like to come.
We’ve taken each of those letters of the LAUGH acronym and looked at it theologically and biblically. One of the purposes of our curriculum is to build community around faithful eating practices, but a second is to learn to read Scripture imaginatively, and then, third, to develop a eucharistic imagination.
So for “local,” for example, we talk about “God is with us” and we talk about the incarnation -- God is here, God is now in this place, not some far-off kind of God -- but we also talk about what it means to have local food.
What does your community look like? Where’s your water source? Who are people in your community that grow food? What are your closest places to go eat, and what kind of food do they produce?
When we piloted it, we had four churches. The first night, we met in the food pantry in that community. One night we met at the local butchery, and we met the butcher. We met at a farm. So the facilitator of the curriculum helps contextualize the class, and then the group is built in the process of this community endeavor.
The way we envision the curriculum working is that we will train facilitators who want to take this into their communities. Folks would then purchase their part of the curriculum. It’s kind of like Disciple Bible Studies.
I’m hoping that the interest would be enough that people would be willing to pay for their materials; the cost would be minimal. By the end of the three years, we hope that it can help sustain the Sabbath Life portion of what we’re doing.
Read the interview with Grace Hackney »
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Faith & Leadership
Limitations
Pastors are sometimes celebrated and congratulated by how much we overextend ourselves. This inevitably leads to deep disappointment, regret, cynicism, or worse. Perhaps what is urgently needed for Christian leadership is not the means to do more, but the discernment to know our limitations. Moses was fortunate to learn this lesson early in ministry.
When Moses began leading the Israelites, he overcame overwhelming external challenges. The Red Sea blocked his path as the hoof beats of Egyptian horses grew louder behind him. God parted the Red Sea and the Israelites crossed over safely to the other side. In the Desert, the Israelites suddenly realized there was no water to drink. They quarreled with Moses, and after a conversation with God, Moses struck a rock and water miraculously appeared for the people. Then he led Israel to victory over the Amalekites as Aaron and Hur held up his arms all day long until the battle was over.
All these were memorable moments in which Moses certainly became more confident in God and in his own ability. But could it be that his most transformational experience is one in which he gained the wisdom had to know what he could not do?
As Moses sat among the Israelites each day to single handedly take on the task of serving as judge for the people, his father-in-law, Jethro, said, “What is this you are doing for the people? Why do you alone sit as judge, while all these people stand around you from morning till evening?” (Ex. 18:14). Jethro assured Moses that if he kept this up he was going to wear himself out. Moses was a powerful prophet, a gifted preacher and a valiant commander, but he did not know his limitations.
I began pastoring when I was 28 in a small, family church in North Carolina. My wife and I had only been married three months and my seminary degree was less than six months old. My first order of business as a new pastor was . . . everything. I was present at every meeting. In the first twelve months, I probably preached fifty Sunday sermons, not counting revival services (still common in my tradition) and occasional sermons at local churches for Sunday afternoon programs.
When people called to invite me as a guest preacher, a false sense of modesty kept me from seeing how these sometimes last-minute invitations nursed my need to be needed. I could not say “no.” They needed me to preach. Sometimes they even said so.
Over the years, I have learned to take a different approach. The birth of a son and an honest evaluation of what I wanted out of life, marriage and ministry has helped me to make different choices. I remember the first time I told someone I could not accept an engagement to preach even though there was nothing else scheduled on my calendar. A sense of relief washed over me. I felt like I was making a choice about how to spend my time and energy, rather than having choices made for me.
Acknowledging limitations is to some a sign of weakness. In Christ, it is a source of strength. The strength of God meets us in our weakness. Too many leaders in ministry make the mistake of thinking that leadership is always a function of how much we can do. Sometimes success is measured by the wisdom of knowing what we cannot do.
Read more from Prince Raney Rivers »
FROM THE ALBAN LIBRARY
HEALTH & WELL-BEING
Prince Raney Rivers: Limitations
Our ego demands that we say "yes" to every opportunity. But there is a freedom to saying "no."
Gifted leaders often feel as though anything is possible. Sooner or later they learn the truth. It’s not. And the earlier they develop the capacity to notice and respect our limitations, the more vibrant their ministries and joyful their lives will be.Pastors are sometimes celebrated and congratulated by how much we overextend ourselves. This inevitably leads to deep disappointment, regret, cynicism, or worse. Perhaps what is urgently needed for Christian leadership is not the means to do more, but the discernment to know our limitations. Moses was fortunate to learn this lesson early in ministry.
When Moses began leading the Israelites, he overcame overwhelming external challenges. The Red Sea blocked his path as the hoof beats of Egyptian horses grew louder behind him. God parted the Red Sea and the Israelites crossed over safely to the other side. In the Desert, the Israelites suddenly realized there was no water to drink. They quarreled with Moses, and after a conversation with God, Moses struck a rock and water miraculously appeared for the people. Then he led Israel to victory over the Amalekites as Aaron and Hur held up his arms all day long until the battle was over.
All these were memorable moments in which Moses certainly became more confident in God and in his own ability. But could it be that his most transformational experience is one in which he gained the wisdom had to know what he could not do?
As Moses sat among the Israelites each day to single handedly take on the task of serving as judge for the people, his father-in-law, Jethro, said, “What is this you are doing for the people? Why do you alone sit as judge, while all these people stand around you from morning till evening?” (Ex. 18:14). Jethro assured Moses that if he kept this up he was going to wear himself out. Moses was a powerful prophet, a gifted preacher and a valiant commander, but he did not know his limitations.
I began pastoring when I was 28 in a small, family church in North Carolina. My wife and I had only been married three months and my seminary degree was less than six months old. My first order of business as a new pastor was . . . everything. I was present at every meeting. In the first twelve months, I probably preached fifty Sunday sermons, not counting revival services (still common in my tradition) and occasional sermons at local churches for Sunday afternoon programs.
When people called to invite me as a guest preacher, a false sense of modesty kept me from seeing how these sometimes last-minute invitations nursed my need to be needed. I could not say “no.” They needed me to preach. Sometimes they even said so.
Over the years, I have learned to take a different approach. The birth of a son and an honest evaluation of what I wanted out of life, marriage and ministry has helped me to make different choices. I remember the first time I told someone I could not accept an engagement to preach even though there was nothing else scheduled on my calendar. A sense of relief washed over me. I felt like I was making a choice about how to spend my time and energy, rather than having choices made for me.
Acknowledging limitations is to some a sign of weakness. In Christ, it is a source of strength. The strength of God meets us in our weakness. Too many leaders in ministry make the mistake of thinking that leadership is always a function of how much we can do. Sometimes success is measured by the wisdom of knowing what we cannot do.
Read more from Prince Raney Rivers »
FROM THE ALBAN LIBRARY
Healthy Churches, Faithful Pastors: Covenant Expectations for Thriving Together by David KeckCongregations want to support their pastors, but don't know how. Pastors love their congregations, but they don't know what to ask of their congregations to garner needed support. Everyone wants to thrive together, but so often we get stuck. This clear and engaging guide helps pastors and congregations bridge communication gaps and set mutual goals and expectations.
Reverend Keck grounds his framework of expectations on both scholarly research and on interviews he's conducted with pastors and lay people. He finds many common difficulties in churches arise from failing to discuss priorities and expectations, and from not effectively working through the problems that arise when expectations aren't met. For pastors and congregants to arrive at common expectations, they need to understand each other-their respective needs, hopes, and distinctive callings.
This book provides concrete steps to aid congregants and pastors communicate their mutual expectations. Keck presents fifty "expectation statements" - examples of what pastors and congregations can expect of one another; a vital resource to anyone who seeks to initiate a discussion of expectations in their own church. Elucidating goals and expectations allows congregations and pastors to support one another and flourish, and fosters church health and harmony.
Learn more and order the book »
UPCOMING ALBAN COURSE: PREACHING ADVENT
Preaching Advent
An Alban Online Short Course
October 31 - November 18, 2016
Advent, the four-Sunday season preceding Christmas, is approaching rapidly. Because you may be looking for a little help in preparing to preach Advent this year, Alban is offering a three-week online short course that will provide you with new insights into Scripture and with specific ways to engage your congregation's imagination during this sacred season.
Learn more and register » -------
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Alban at Duke Divinity School
VISIT OUR WEBSITE
Alban at Duke Divinity School
1121 West Chapel Hill Street, Suite 101
Durham, North Carolina 27701, United States
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