Sunday, September 30, 2012: Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29; Mark 9:38-50
If Moses is any example, the pastor’s yoke was never light. He wasn’t very far into his 40-year pastorate when he learned that his flock did not feel called to provide him with constant affirmation.
My dad was a pastor. After serving in World War II, he went to college on the G.I. Bill and then on to seminary. Like other mainline denominations, the Presbyterian Church was in full growth mode back then, and clergy ranked high in polls among the nation’s most trusted and respected professionals. When I walked down the street by my father’s side, I observed proudly that men—even older men—would doff their hats and greet him with deference. Back then a clerical collar elicited not only cultural respect but also a discount at the local department store and a complimentary membership in the country club.
One of my sons is a pastor now. When I tell him what ministry was like in his grandfather’s day, he smiles politely and makes a mental note to say something about it in his blog: it’s a good illustration of the way the world used to be. These days a clerical collar is much more likely to elicit bafflement or outright hostility. Once, while wearing a dog collar in Walmart, I was mistaken for an employee. On another occasion I was asked what I was doing in a public restroom with a small boy.
I’m not complaining (not much, anyway). I didn’t go into this work for the perks. And I’ve found that as the perks fade away, it’s easier to discern the true nature of servanthood.
