Feb 16, 2018 | Extra Articles (For everyone), Features
Alison Hassall is both a Reader in active ministry and a practising spiritual director. She believes the two vocations marry well together, as she explains.
[This article is from our Spring 2018 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
When people are accepted for training for Reader/LLM Ministry in the Diocese of Oxford, they are told that they should have a spiritual director. I suspect that some other dioceses say the same. For some this is baffling: What on earth is a spiritual director? It can sound rather forbidding. And where do I find such a person? Then there has to be the question as to what help one could bring. I have an excellent spiritual director who is a splendid help to me in my own journey of faith. I would not be without one. Also I am a spiritual director, and see that vocation as part of my LLM/ Reader ministry.
The role of a spiritual director is primarily to listen and be alongside, recognising that it is really God who is the director. If you like, there are three of you all together in confidence: director, directee and God. It becomes a sacred space, albeit a safe, friendly one where you can divulge thoughts, feelings, ideas, as you feel comfortable but do not have to if you prefer not. The director will possibly reflect some things back to you, maybe use silence to allow realisation or even sudden surprise. But the director does not direct! The title can be off putting, but it has become so long in usage that it is hard to change. Some prefer spiritual accompaniment or even soul friend but the latter, a title from the Celtic tradition, is slightly different.
As a Reader, one comes up against all sorts of people, all sorts of situations which require discernment, often tact in working with others, and at times it can all be challenging. I am now working with my fourth incumbent. With each fresh one there have had to be adjustments, some give and take perhaps. How supportive I have found the safe listening ear of my spiritual director. Being able to talk honestly about things in total confidence is important and, I feel, essential for the practising Reader. Family issues too can come to the fore. A Reader took the funeral of a brother with Down’s syndrome a while ago. This was a brother whom the Reader scarcely knew. Yet, following that the pain and grief surfaced rather unexpectedly. To be able to talk it all over with a spiritual director provided huge relief and also clarification about very real and deep feelings.
In so many ways I see that spiritual direction is important for a Reader to keep the enthusiasm and purpose of their calling. Often, being a minister in the church can be taxing, discouraging and exhausting. A spiritual director is there to understand both highs and lows, to remain alongside through delight and difficulty and really be a safe, sustaining haven for the lay minister. Remember, the real director is God, so always you both are listening for that guidance. Indeed, some directors I know will pull up three chairs, one for the director, one for the directee and one for God. I like to think of this metaphorically, as it were, but I do understand that for some this could be a helpful visible reminder.
A good spiritual director is also likely willingly to explore prayer opportunities and open doors to different ways of praying in different circumstances. Someone in a licensed ministerial position could become stale in their prayer, often without realising it. Introducing something different, even experimenting with prayer might revitalise the whole ministry. From time to time, the spiritual director might well offer some variety. So, someone who prayed daily with a set ‘Quiet time’ for years was introduced to taking space to ‘be’ with God with no other agenda, and notice signs of God in walks or pottering about the garden. This person found a new freedom and delight in the presence of God – having got over the guilt of ‘not praying properly.’ Of course, for someone different who is undisciplined in prayer, something more structured could be just the job to trigger a new contentment as they pray, possibly taking a fixed ‘quiet time’ for a spell. Talking it all over with someone steeped in prayer who has a vocation to be alongside is amazingly helpful.
Something that I particularly like about spiritual direction as a ministry is that it is totally non-denominational. I have recently worked with a splendid team on a Week of Accompanied Prayer consisting of Roman Catholics, Anglicans and Baptists, and including priests, ministers and lay people, male and female. Great! Reader ministry is wider than the obvious preaching, teaching and pastoral. I consider that in some ways perhaps you can preach and teach by listening, in a curious sort of way. Listening gives huge value to a person. Spiritual direction means that I am alongside all sorts of people from a variety of denominations and, indeed, none, in their daily walk with God. Sometimes they may not realise that they are on that walk, that journey, at all and might even baulk at reference to God. But they are. And what a joy it is when such an individual comes to the realisation that God is alongside them. I love spiritual direction as a ministry, feel hugely privileged to be called in this way, and love the people who come, whether for a short time or, sometimes, for a good number of years. It fits in well with Reader ministry, in the twenty-first century when so many are disbelieving and unwilling to discuss matters of faith. In some way, it is a healing ministry. As you listen attentively, so the hurting person relaxes and becomes freer and so starts to let go of their burden.
I have been a spiritual director for a good many years now. I still remember my first formal directee. Having finished my training, I wondered how and when I would ever start seeing people. Where do they come from? I am not sure now how but I found that first I had one person coming, then it expanded to six and not that length of time later, I was having to limit the number to ten. In practice I find that most come through personal recommendation. It is important to have the right director; both parties need to be comfortable and relate to each other sympathetically. As a spiritual director, a wide variety of people will confide in you as you explore together whatever crops up. Also you come across so many and different people, whether one to one or vicariously through the situations your ‘directees’ find themselves in. You can also be thrown at times. I have never forgotten the person who arrived and quickly explained his quandary: should he leave his wife for someone else? I found it hard to remain calm and attentive as I heard this – indeed I almost felt panic! That is when one has immediately to put all one’s own reactions, prejudices, etc. aside and listen attentively. Several years and many hours of being prayerfully alongside this man, he revealed he was still with his wife and children and would remain so.
Confidentiality has to be key. I heard of one interesting person, Mary (not her real name) with an almost storybook horror family: an alcoholic husband, two teenage sons one of whom seemed permanently at home, whether it was a school day or not. The other was seldom at home. He was 16, went off to school each morning but his mother suspected he seldom made it into school. She also believed he was on drugs of some description. With all that, she tried to take space for God. Mary longed to be able to spend time with God and every time she met her spiritual director they would try and sort out how best to do this in her life. The next time she came, it was just the same. And the next. Somehow she was not able to carry through what she had desired and they had discussed. The spiritual director felt they were getting nowhere, although she understood that her role was to remain alongside Mary no matter how long this situation went on. Eventually, several years later, Mary moved away.
Looking at this sort of situation helps me. I now realise that at one time I should have found that situation hard to deal with whereas now I would cope more effectively and certainly would be more comfortable being alongside someone who was unable to move anywhere at a particular stage of her life. As a spiritual director, the role is to accompany and not worry if there is no movement. It is not our role to get progress or make things better – although we might often want to be able to do just that.
Spiritual direction is a chance to be with a person in a loving and privileged way. It is a rewarding vocation and one that works well with the call to be a Reader. As it is a somewhat hidden ministry, even if people in the pews know it exists, they often assume that it is only for the so-called important ministers up front. Perhaps Readers, with their combination of often being up front, and being part of the laity, are just the people to advertise it to a congregation. To talk about it naturally, introduce it to your congregation as something for them is really helpful and perhaps the best place to make it known.
During the Week of Accompanied Prayer in our parishes, mentioned above, eight spiritual directors gave up their time for the week to come to our area and give some 30-40 minutes each day to each of three to five individuals. This time was for talking (and listening) about prayer. In effect, each of the eight was being the spiritual director or retreat giver to three to five people for the week. Such a week can revive a group of churches as individuals’ relationship with God through prayer deepens. Brilliant!
I would like to encourage Readers to have a spiritual director, even if the particular diocese does not require it. To operate effectively in the calling, perhaps it is essential. But it is vital to find the right person with whom you can be open and whom you trust. As well as this, spiritual direction is a joyous vocation and some Readers are ideally suited to it. So it is right to be open, if anyone feels a hint of a call that way, then pursue it. There are numerous training courses all over the country. If you find it impossible to dig one out, the Retreat Association is a good starting point.
Alison Hassall is a Reader in the Oxford Diocese, a Spiritual Director and a Trainer of Spiritual Directors.
[This article is from our Spring 2018 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
To find out more
Retreat Association – info@retreats.org.uk phone: 01494 569056
Clare Charity Centre, Wycombe Road, Saunderton HP14 43F
SpiDir (Spiritual Direction) website – (Diocese of Southwark)
www.Soulfriend.org.uk (Berkshire, Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire)
Feb 16, 2018 | Extra Articles (For everyone), Features
The Church of England has a problem with the laity, says John Griffiths. Here he argues for a theology of Reader ministry built on the foundations of a theology of the laity.
[This article is from our Spring 2018 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
The 2017 report to the Archbishop’s Council Setting God’s People Free states: ‘One reason why the contribution and role of the laity is misunderstood and under-valued may be the absence of any systematic theological framework for thinking about lay engagement and leadership”.1 For want of a strong theology of the laity, Readers can feel impelled to ask if they can form a minor clerical order. Or even if they can be ordained deacon without being called to the priesthood. I believe this misses the point. Reader ministry comes from our identity and experience as laity first and foremost. I hope to show that a theology of the laity is the foundation of Reader ministry and that Readers don’t have to strive to be a proxy or an imitation of those in holy orders.
The distinction between the laity and those in holy orders centres on the calling of the latter to be permanent public representatives of the Christian faith. Readers too are called to a public role, but without the dog collar they are less visible than the clergy. Our role is less to represent and more to be present. As lay people we know that God has known us from before birth and has formed us in the context where we have been placed. We trust that God speaks through every experience that we have. These are the materials through which the word of God is filtered. The Incarnation fuses God’s mission with the context into which the Son of God comes.
One way of illustrating this is with the words of Jesus aged 12, now an adult in Jewish understanding, telling his parents in the temple he had to be ‘about my Father’s business’.2 Those who interpret this devotionally (I must spend more time away from the world on religious matters) or sacerdotally (I must spend more time in the temple) miss the force of what Jesus is saying. Neither of these interpretations fit. Jesus doesn’t keep running away to the temple to be about his Father’s business but returns to Nazareth and is obedient to his parents, working in Joseph’s family business. The greater part of Jesus’ incarnational life is as a lay person immersed in the world. When he begins his ministry as the Christ announcing the Kingdom, he assumes a new role as intermediary and calls together a group of disciples whom he trains to be apostles in a representative role. It is the hidden life of Jesus the layman which the laity follows. And like Jesus at that time of his life, much of our service in the world is invisible and unrecorded. But Jesus in his workshop is still Jesus incarnate – the power of God present and active in the world.
The laity does have a ministry. St Paul, always the radical, addresses a struggling group of Ephesian Christians by flipping the conventional authority of Old Testament Scripture and replacing the tag ‘The Law and the Prophets’ with a new one ‘The Apostles and the Prophets’, the foundations on which the temple of the Ephesian church is based.3 Paul likes the idea so much he uses it a second time in Chapter 3: “the mystery of Christ … has now been revealed by the Spirit to God’s holy apostles and prophets”.4 The apostles and the prophets are working out the implications of the incarnation of Jesus Christ. The laity has a prophetic role not as futurists, or ecstatics, but interpreters of the word of God in and for their culture. Readers trained to be ministers of the word are the most highly trained lay exponents the church possesses. It is significant that Dr John Murray, a father figure and shaper of the Reader movement and master of Selwyn College where Readers went to train, used to regularly lecture on The Prophethood of the Laity.5 Paul in Ephesians 4 goes on to describe those with leadership gifts as equippers.6 It is the laity who is being equipped to minister in the world. Readers have a foot in both camps as equippers and lay ministers.
St Peter, writing to the refugees and expatriate Christians in Asia Minor, calls a group of exiles ‘Proclaimers of God’s wonderful acts’.7 The extended metaphor sets them in the role of temple singers and poets – but they are hundreds of miles away from the Jerusalem temple. It is lay people that Peter addresses. It is the laity who are expected to declare the acts of God.
It is ironic that during the twentieth century, also called the century of the Holy Spirit, that confirmation, demoted from being a sacrament at the Reformation, has further been marginalised so that baptism is now considered to be sufficient for the infilling of the Spirit and for Christians to take communion.8 I was surprised to find that in reading over half a million words to research this article there was almost no reference to confirmation, the laying on of hands by a bishop, praying for infilling by the Holy Spirit so the laity can be sent into the world to serve. The Fresh Expressions report of 2012 refers to confirmation only as what it calls ‘a form of intensive membership’,9 what church members do in and around their churches. Perhaps 500 years after the Reformation it is time to remedy the collective amnesia of a church that doesn’t recognise that the laity ARE Spirit filled and sent.10 Recognising the New Testament roots of confirmation would be a start even if this is just Jesus breathing on his disciples! On the day of Pentecost Peter urges his Jewish listeners to be baptised in order to be filled with the Holy Spirit, to fulfil the words of Joel that the Spirit is poured out on everybody young and old. Until we remember that the laity also has hands laid on them, clericalism will continue to infantilise the laity.
If you are beginning to see the potential represented by the laity and their service in the world, can I also point out that at least half of the books of the Old Testament were written by lay people, and that the authors of a fifth of the New Testament books were not apostles. The scriptures have not only to be read but interpreted by the laity because it is their experience of God at work in the world which the scriptures themselves embody, and which the laity are called to carry with them.
Having laid the ground of the theological identity of the laity, we can now turn to the office of Reader. We are not in holy orders. But we are called to be ‘out of order’ in the words of Bishop Robert Paterson. The office of Reader means that having been trained in the scriptures to a similar level to ordinands, we are authorised ministers, licensed to a particular parish, in submission to our bishops, supported by our incumbents and shaped by the congregations to which we belong.11 We are not itinerant ministers but authorised within a specific context. The statement of arrangements is tethered to what we do in and around church buildings and church services. But our ministry does not finish at parish boundaries any more than that of the rest of the laity. Readers are one of the most brilliant inventions of the Church of England, a body of ministers of the Word, not a clerical order; spending the majority of their time as ministers of the word out of order and unaccounted for. One reason why the Central Readers’ Council, The Reader and diocesan Reader gatherings are so important is that they enable us to practice mutual accountability. So much Reader ministry is outside of their statements of arrangement. It is for other lay ministers of the Word to evaluate whether we are being faithful to our calling. Since we are not a clerical order there are limits on how much we can be managed in and through our work in church activities and church buildings.
Setting God’s People Free distinguishes between the gathered church and the sent church.12 Readers have a role to play in the sent church as much as the gathered church. Increasingly, they are doing this in many roles including chaplaincy. The box below outlines some archetypes found in scripture which have bearing on the roles of Readers.
Archetypes for Reader ministry
- The Prophet
There are two traditions through the Old Testament, first the institution expressed through the priesthood and the temple and the lay movement represented by prophets. The prophets, always a lay movement, spoke the word of God to the culture. These two movements can also be traced in and through the New Testament as well.
There is a prophetic role for the laity in general and for Readers in particular as authorised ministers of the word which arises directly from their experience as laity as they encounter the word of God.13
2. The Poet
A poet is a maker and performer of words, the wordsmith.
See Sally Buck’s brilliant chapter in the 2016 anniversary book about Reader Ministry where she uses George Ling’s typology of the seven spaces in which ministers of the Word operate.14 We are trained to read the Word, and to be read by it. And to commend the scriptures to people whether in sermons, study or in conversation. Words are our currency, whether we use words written by others, or whether we sit down to write or speak our words ourselves.
3. The Levite
This is not a helpful archetype – not least because without a consecrated space Levites could not operate. It positions us in perpetuity as support to the priesthood so we are back to being ‘vicar’s little helper’ again. Of course part of our role is to work collaboratively with the clergy but our identity is distinctive and different. We are not deputies for when the clergy are absent but have a contribution to make which is complementary. We have to resist the gravitational pull of a clericalism which undermines our identity as lay ministers.
John Griffiths is a Reader in St Albans diocese. He is writing a book about his first ten years as a Reader
[This article is from our Spring 2018 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
Notes
- 1 Setting God’s People Free, p.13
- 2 Luke 2: 29.
- 3 Eph. 2: 20.
- 4 Eph. 3: 4.
- 5 Hiscox, Celebrating Reader Ministry, p.4.
- 6 Eph. 4: 12.
- 7 1 Peter 2: 9.
- 8 International Anglican Liturgical Commission, Toronto, 1991.
- 9 Fresh Expressions in the Ministry of the Church, p.129.
- 10 Through the Ambassador Scheme, the Diocese of London is re-imagining confirmation to do this.
- 11 There is no laying on of hands. The bishop presents a licence to the Reader.
- 12 Setting God’s People Free, p.9.
- 13 To find out how highly Paul rated prophecy, see I Cor. 14.
- 14 Instruments of Christ’s Love: The Ministry of Readers, ch. 1.
To find out more
Archbishops’ Council. Setting God’s People Free. 2017. Available to download at: https://www.churchofengland.org/sites/default/ files/2017-11/gs-2056-setting-gods-people-free. pdf
Dawson, Brian and Kirsten Dawson. Confirmation: An Anglican Resource Review. Anglican Diocese of Dunedin, NZ, 2009. Available to download at: http:// calledsouth.org.nz/downloads/liturgical-resources/ templates-for-worship/Confirmation_an_anglican_ resource.pdf
Hiscox, Rhona. Celebrating Reader Ministry. Mowbrays, 1991.
Joint Anglican Methodist Report. Fresh Expressions in the Ministry of the Church. Church House Publising, 2012.
Kuhrt, George W. and Pat Nappin. Bridging the Gap: Reader ministry today. Church House Publising, 2002.
Lay Ministries Working Group. Serving Together. C of E, 2016. Available to download at: http://www.ministrydevelopment.org.uk/serving-together
Martineau, Robert. The Office and Work of a Reader. Mowbrays, 1970.
Rowling, Cathy and Paula Gooder. Reader Ministry Explored. SPCK, 2009.
Tovey, Philip, Sally Buck and Graham Dodds. Instruments of Christ’s Love: The Ministry of Readers. SCM, 2016.
Serving Together. Lay Ministries Working Group Report 2015/16
Setting God’s People Free. Feb 2017 Report from Archbishops Council
Feb 16, 2018 | Extra Articles (For everyone), Features
Having recently commemorated 500 years of Reformation, we should keep our eyes, ears and hearts open to God’s Spirit inspiring us to change, argues Carrie Myers. Is Reader ministry ripe for reformation? Should we join the diaconate? Or perhaps we will cease to have a distinctive licensed role?
[This article is from our Spring 2018 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
When I was exploring vocation several years ago, Reader ministry emerged as the obvious, perfect fit for me. I was sure then and am sure now of God’s calling me to this ministry. But as I read more about it, it was hard to pin down what it actually is that a Reader does, or is. Although we have an apparently clear remit as ‘a teaching, preaching and liturgical ministry in a pastoral context’, there is huge variety in Reader ministry even within my diocese as we each seek to use our own gifts and to serve God in our parishes and beyond.
I’ve also become more aware of wider conversations in the Church about our ministry. On the one hand, some areas and some Readers are warm to the idea of us joining a permanent diaconate. On the other, some see the burgeoning of more lay ministries as a challenge to our particular identity.
Is our ministry so different from ordained ministry?
Over the past few decades, what used to be a clear distinction between clergy and Readers has become increasingly blurred, not least due to the proliferation of ways in which ordained ministry can be exercised. We are no longer especially distinctive in not being employed by the Church, as self-supporting ministries have increased and many priests are also in secular employment, or retired from it. The emergence of Ordained Local Ministries in the 1980s means that we are no longer distinct in being locally called to and from our own parishes. In addition, recent discussions regarding the role and function of deacons have demonstrated great overlap in function with Reader ministry. Like Readers, deacons have a liturgical and pastoral role, and emphasis on mission and a role in assisting, rather than presiding. We are by no means the only ministers who straddle Church and world in the famous image of a bridge, used so frequently, nor the only people who take part in ministry and mission in our places of work. And we are by no means the only ministers who may, at times, have to challenge the notion that we have an inferior ministry, which isn’t quite on a par with that of our parish priest!
I know Readers who are keen to be ordained into the diaconate, as a natural extension of their ministry. And of course God may call us all to different ministries at different times. But I want to argue for our lay status as something vital to our – certainly to my – vocation.
This is firstly because, when I started exploring my own vocation, I was sure it was not to sacramental ministry. Readers are ministers of the Word, but those who are ordained become ministers of Word and Sacrament. While all are baptised into the priesthood of all believers, there is still a special and particular vocation of ordained ministry.
I am saddened and, if I’m honest, a bit offended, when people ask me if I’ll be going ‘on’ to be a priest, as if my current ministry is a stepping stone, rather than something which is exactly where I believe God is calling me to be. Or if I had ‘thought about’ ordained ministry as if, in my years of exploring vocation, that might not have been something which was tested either by myself or others. Reader ministry is complementary to ordained ministry, not inferior to, or in competition with, it. As a Church, we need to explore collaborative ministry, rekindle a vision of the body of Christ with a multitude of roles and vocations, rather than viewing ministries as a hierarchy.
One of the great joys of the past couple of years was to preach at a service where my best friend presided for the first time. We studied theology together at university, discussed vocation together over the years and were now both exercising the ministries to which we had been called, which in that service perfectly complemented each other. Neither of us is in a ministry that is superior to the other, or better. Of course there are things she can do which I can’t, like giving blessings. And there are things I do which, in a parish, she can’t, like being a Christian in a secular workplace. To conflate our ministries would diminish both.
Because, for me, the appropriate distinction between ordained and Reader ministries is precisely and obviously that Readers are lay. The Church needs both a more theologically sophisticated and simple to comprehend understanding of this lay status, and positivity about it, rather than turning Readers into mini, replacement or understudy clergy. As part of this, it is vital that the Church has a clear, public ministry for the laity, and that the laity has a strong, theologically articulate voice in the Church. I hope and believe that with a priority for lay discipleship and ministry within Renewal and Reform, and the proliferation of lay ministries, we may be getting closer to that.
One ministry among many
Given this renewed priority of ministry of the whole people of God, is having a licensed, separate Reader ministry still appropriate at all?
In recent decades there has been a proliferation in the range and exercise of lay ministries, with many functions overlapping with those of Readers. What a blessing that increasing numbers are exploring ministry and vocation! But it has resulted in a situation where there could be two people doing exactly the same things, but with one having studied for three years and being a licensed Reader, and the other having no training or licensing. Should all lay ministries be labelled and licensed, or should none?
I appreciate, as a Reader, I’m pretty biased. But I would argue for Reader ministry to remain as distinctive. While it may become one among many more licensed lay ministries, there are things which distinguish it from some, though not all, other lay ministries. These include the requirement for discernment of a calling, a bishop’s license and being Canonically governed. We are required to be mature in faith, have accountability in and for our ministry and are under authority beyond our own parish context.
Reader ministry also requires a high level of training in order to nurture and develop spiritual gifts, a source of some debate in these pages and more widely. At its best, this training ensures, as far as possible, the quality of Reader ministry, for example in ensuring sermons are delivered based on a sound theological understanding. I would not wish to argue that no one without training should be encouraged to develop their gifts; a practice sermon may help someone along the road of discernment of a calling. However, training is vital in the regular exercising of public ministry and good teaching. It also, for me, brought the great gift of training with people from all sorts of parishes, broadening our perspectives and ensuring we look beyond our own traditions. In a Church seemingly increasingly polarised and at odds with itself, this aspect of the training serves as a correction to that tendency. Readers can present a different perspective on relationships and attitudes towards other traditions, as well as the wider world.
As a group of several thousand lay ministers, I also believe Readers have a powerful representative role. In our ministry, leading worship, teaching, in pastoral care and everything else we do, we embody the fact that it is not only clergy whom God calls. Readers are a symbol of the calling of laity and the ministry of the whole people of God. One does not have to be called to ordination to exercise gifts to serve your congregation and local community. Readers help to demonstrate to the congregation and the outside world that you do not need a dog-collar to be ‘holy’; being lay means they can sometimes witness to this more powerfully than clergy.
Although some Readers may feel squeezed out by additional lay ministries – licensed or otherwise – this feels to me like a wonderfully vibrant time in which Readers, as highly trained, theologically and spiritually articulate laity, can help to lead the Church in really nurturing the gifts of the whole people of God. Interestingly, there is little, if anything, within the expected outcomes for Reader training which suggest that one of our roles is to spot and encourage gifts and callings in other lay people. I would argue that this is a really important role for a Reader and, precisely because we are not ordained, we can be better placed to have conversations with other lay people exploring a calling or seeking to grow in faith and discipleship as they explore how to serve Jesus in a culture and context which sometimes makes it hard to see how.
A ‘cordon bleu’ lay ministry?
All that said, I do think we must be wary of, and resist the urge to, consider ourselves superior to other lay ministries, in the way that some consider ordained ministers superior to us! While I am sympathetic to the concern behind the promotion of Reader ministry as ‘cordon bleu’ ministry to ensure that Readers are recognised and allowed to minister as they deserve (for example as in the Church of England’s Working Group on Review of Reader Ministry in 2008) we should be very wary of creating more hierarchies in the Church. Instead, how can we, as Readers, help create a culture where all gifts, callings and vocations are seen as equally valued parts of our wonderfully diverse body?
Having an abundance of different lay ministries, some with training, licensing and even a Canon or two may make our own ministry less distinctive, and result in some overlaps in function, but better to have overlaps than gaps! I suggest that some messiness is entirely appropriate for the Church – the gifts of the Spirit can hardly be forced to fit into humanly constructed categories. As ministers and disciples we are all given different gifts for the building up of God’s kingdom, and part of our discernment process is how we best exercise these to spread the joyous gospel we proclaim.
The Readers I know are inspiring people with a strong theological voice, who work collaboratively with ordained and other lay ministers in mission and ministry. They convey their own sense of vocation while encouraging the gifts and discipleship of other laity. They are a part of the work of the whole people of God in mission. I hope and pray that our ministry continues to flourish and to support others – lay and ordained – in shared ministry and mission for the glory of God.
Carrie Myers is a Reader in the Putney team ministry in the diocese of Southwark. She is one of the younger members of General Synod with a keen interest promoting lay ministry.
[This article is from our Spring 2018 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
Feb 16, 2018 | Extra Articles (For everyone), Features
[This article is from our Spring 2018 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
In late 2015, the Church of England’s Ministry Division set up a small working group to investigate and explore licensed and authorised ministry in England.
Esther Elliott gives an overview of this project.
It was apparent early on to the group that there could be real value in thinking about lay ministry alongside (and inside) our thinking about the doctrine of the incarnation. All ministry is to be understood as the servant of mission. The work of God in drawing all creation into a loving, free, reconciled relationship with Godself is the purpose of all Christian faith and action. The incarnation is key to understanding the dynamic of how God does this and gives us a pattern to follow. However, as a church, we have some assumed models for incarnational ministry which assume that the norm for ministry is stipendary and ordained. These models include, for example, where we draw boundaries between what is ministry and what is not and what tasks are included in what we define as being the Christ-like presence in a particular place. Perhaps too the term ‘incarnational’ has come to mean being somewhere for a few years and then moving on, taking a feature of the life of Christ, in an extremely blunt form, and using it as a pattern.
We are privileged to have the Peak District as part of the Derby Diocese. Many Readers who minister here have been part of a particular community all their lives. Others, however, have retired here after working and ministering elsewhere. I wonder how different incarnational ministry is for them, and how that might help us develop our understanding of the theological meaning of ‘incarnation’.
Building a framework
The working group was asked to propose a framework for lay ministries in the Church of England that respected the diversity of expression between dioceses and encouraged shared learning and good practice. So we consulted and collaborated in as many ways as we could within the short timeframe given. We asked bishops and diocesan staff for facts, figures and opinions. We ran two consultations which drew together the majority of people around the country who have some sort of responsibility for providing training and discernment processes for lay ministers and we ran focus groups with a variety of lay ministers in different places. Although this process was by no means exhaustive, some strong evidence came out of it confirming that the diversity of practice in lay authorised and licensed ministry is based in some solid realities of Church of England ministry. If a bishop wants something done a certain way, it is usually done that way. More complicated is the fact that dioceses have history, in their practices, their thinking and their cultures. We have recently closed a programme in which Readers from Derby Diocese trained alongside those from Southwell and Nottingham Diocese. Geographically and culturally the areas these dioceses cover aren’t that different, but there are huge differences in culture. And personally, because my ministry stretches across the two, I am often tasked with trying to be the same person in two different ways. This diversity is hugely important.
As the Church of England, we are anxious for all sorts of reasons. We are anxious about whether we can keep going. We are fearful that we have lost our power of influence and our place for authority. We are in the process of finding out all sorts of things from our corporate history we would frankly sooner not be reminded of. For some people who are anxious, furiously trying to do something about the causes of anxiety helps. For others, trying to find the common themes and draw everything together to gain a sense of control helps. Institutions are no different: we have leaders who are advocating that we get active and prioritise evangelism getting more and more people into roles; and we have leaders who are advocating that the centre, the House of Bishops, gets more of a grip and draws things together. A different way of dealing with anxiety, however, is to sit with it and let it stir up questions and opportunities to try new ways of acting and thinking so we can continually find and rest in some integrity about the ways in which we work as an individual and as a community. As a working group we decided to follow this third way. We don’t advocate trying to prioritise getting more lay ministers, nor do we prioritise ‘boxing up’ or ‘labelling’ lay ministers and what they do. Rather, our common framework, for the moment, is a commitment to finding the ways and resources to share space for stirring up questions and opportunities to try things out.
From task to role
Following on from this and having considered carefully the recent theological, Biblical and practical gathered wisdom around ministry, the working group felt it was imperative to shift the current focus of our thinking about lay ministry from exploring role and identity to exploring tasks and acts of service. The overwhelming majority of New Testament scholarship now supports the understanding of ministry as the commissioned and accountable service of an envoy. In this, ministry is both distinct from, and connected to, discipleship. Service and witness are vital and revitalising components of discipleship. And, for some disciples, being commissioned and supported for a specific act of service and witness is a meaningful and effective means by which they play their part in the shared endeavour of ministry.
In my home parish, I am often to be found on a Sunday as a Reader in the role of liturgical deacon at the Eucharist. I could be in that role if I was an OLM, a distinctive deacon or if I had no formal licence or authorisation. I have learnt to inhabit that role not just because I am a Reader and that’s what Readers do, but because one of the tasks I recognise I am licensed to undertake is to build bridges in my local place between lay and ordained people. I stand at the altar next to the priest as a symbol, in my context and my tradition, of lay involvement in the Eucharist which somehow transcends simply receiving the bread and the wine. I stand there in my robes and blue scarf next to the priest in their robes and stole as a symbol of being the same and yet also being different. The theological questions that raises are profound – and very worth pondering.
In the remainder of this article, I want to raise some themes that being part of this project has provoked me to also explore about the world of lay ministry.
Authenticity
This concept is fiendishly difficult to define. What does it mean for us, as lay ministers, to be worthy of acceptance? What does it mean for us to conform to an existing pattern or picture or model or to conform to the original? What does it mean for us to not be fake, or an imitation of something? In organisational terms, these are questions which often lie in the land of vocational discernment and selection. Perhaps they spread out a bit if you have standards or competency grids for assessment of people at the end of their training, or at transition points. But to ask these questions in those spaces means they have a specific function – usually are you in or are you out. There is worth in asking these questions in other spaces as well.
We, as lay ministers, are often called lay theologians. Whether you like that term or not, it does identify what sets us apart from those who are set apart – by Holy Orders – and identifies one of our key tasks. It also situates us in a binary of lay and ordained. Perhaps playing with the notion of how we embrace, talk about, think about, what is natural, human, real; how we handle authenticity – our own and as a concept – might help us find a way to explore this idea more deeply. It might help us with our own sense of personal and community vocation – being who we are called to be. What does being an authentic minister mean to you? What gives you authenticity? What could take it away?
Permission
Licensed and authorised ministers in the Church of England are given permission to minister. Usually, because we are a hierarchy, this is by the bishop through the system of applying Canon Law and licensing people, sometimes more locally through a variety of systems of authorisation. We are given permission; we also have to take that permission for it to be effective. We are people who have been given permission to do something and hold a national licence and we are still volunteers. Think about how unusual that is in the world of volunteering. What difference does that make to not just how we are managed, but how we do what we do?
Currently, we are in the process of prioritising innovation and creativity. For example, the way in which activity and projects are funded from the national church has recently changed. Dioceses are no longer given a block grant for work but have to bid for the money. This will have many intended and unintended consequences, some good, some not so good. In this context, it is very easy to assume that permission-giving is simply all about approval to innovate, to try out new stuff. But for 151 years Readers have been given licence to pioneer stability. What might that mean for us in the contemporary context? How does that stretch beyond simply being the people who help do the maintenance as well as the mission, who keep the BCP services alive? How do we take permission to pioneer stability, to put those two thoughts together?
Professionalism
The world of ministry is being professionalised. Clergy have terms and conditions of service, ministerial development reviews and now national and local strategies for their well-being. All training for ordained ministry is overseen by one institution; Durham University. We have picked up the habit of collecting statistics and information about our corporate and individual life at every turn. For the first time, there is a national programme of statutory training (safeguarding training) for all ministers with serious consequences if you don’t do it. There is space to ask questions about whether lay ministers need some of these mechanisms. What does professionalism, beyond these functions, look like? What does it mean to be adept and adroit as a licensed lay minister? Is it that we meet an agreed set of competencies or values? Is it something different? What else do we need, as well as training and support to enable us to be professional? Perhaps the metaphor of being ambassadors for Christ might be helpful.
I have given you three themes of authenticity, permission and professionalism to add to exploring lay ministry in the context of the doctrine of the incarnation, committing to and resourcing a common framework of stirring up questions, conversations and trying new things to enhance good practice and shifting our focus from roles and identity to tasks and acts of service. I hope that I have given you some glimpses of some of the depth of thinking and practice, creativity and wisdom we can continue, or begin, to exercise as Lay Ministers in service of the church, in service of the God who love us and all humanity, who longs for all of creation to be reconciled to Godself over and over again.
Canon Dr Esther Elliott is Director of Studies in Derby Diocese with responsibility for the initial training of Readers and ordinands, and until recently Warden of Readers for Derby Diocese. She is also a Reader in the Parish of St Peter and All Saints, Nottingham City Centre.
[This article is from our Spring 2018 issue. To read back issues dating back to 2015, please activate your subscription]
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