Beginning a new pastorate means first establishing a relationship in which trust can grow. Doing so will benefit each partner for more than the first months, but for years to come.
—Robert Kemper
Protestant clergy follow what John Wesley called “an itinerant tradition.” We change pastorates often. Clergy and parishes come to many endings and consequently many beginnings. But just because the process of changing leaders is commonplace, it doesn’t mean it’s uniform or easy.
I’ve made this transition three times during my ministry. I’ve discovered that old opinion—that the first year is critical—is correct. How I handle that first year makes a huge difference in the rest of my stay at a church. Having been through three first years, I’ve learned a few things.
The Goal: Building Mutual Trust
I’ve found that the essential factor in enduring, mutually satisfying pastor-parish relationships is trust. More particularly, the congregation and pastor need to allow each other to fulfill specialized roles, to respect each other’s status, responsibilities, and privileges.
To use Paul’s imagery, there are different parts in the body. An eye does not do what a kidney does. Healthy bodies of Christ are those in which the various parts function both autonomously and symbiotically, where people respect the gifts of others and contribute themselves to the good of the whole.
One minister arrived in his new parish well-qualified and well-meaning, but his previous ministry had been that of a military chaplain. So by instinct, the new minister “took command” of the new parish. From his office came directives on everything from finance to faith. However, the congregation was not a battalion, and quickly came hostile to him. He did not trust them; they did not trust him. He was “relieved of command” in less than a year.
Most congregations are trustworthy. The evidence is on their side; namely, they have existed as a church before the new leader came. They have a good sense of what sustains a Christian community. They understand financial needs, mission initiatives, ecclesiastical purpose. By and large, they are highly idealistic and want to do good. There are no purposefully and willfully malevolent congregations.
On the other hand, most pastors are trustworthy. They have been called of God to ministry; they have been prepared for and have experience in ministry.
So, ministers and congregations are usually trustworthy. The problem is that new congregations and new pastors do not know each other. They have had no experiences that solidify the commitment to each other. They have not met a crisis.
It is not surprising that the metaphor for pastor-parish relations is marriage. A “honeymoon” is the time immediately after the vows have been spoken. In pastor-parish relationships, as in marriage, there is nothing like the relentless pressures of intimacy to disclose the unknown mysteries of another.
Hence, beginning a new pastorate means first establishing a relationship in which trust can grow. Doing so will benefit each partner for more than the first months, but for years to come.
I have known pastors who have done what seemed to me terribly bizarre things in a congregation. But when I asked them how they got away with such things, they inevitably explain that the congregation understands. “That’s who I am and how I do things,” they say. The Scripture is right when it says there are no strangers and sojourners in the house of the Lord. That’s especially true when strangers take the time and effort to become trusted persons in the house.
Trust is, of course, an intangible goal. But I’ve found a few tangible ways to build it.
Moratorium on Change
When I arrive in a new church, I’m bursting to jump into leadership. But I check my enthusiasm. In fact, I try to make no changes in the church for one year. Instead, I use the first year to wait, listen, and learn. Only then do I lead.
The first year is the only year, of course, when some changes can be made. Maybe the organist has to go before he becomes entrenched in my term. Nonetheless, I’ve always been cautious about assuming I’ve been given carte blanche in that first year.
This biding of time is hard on me, however. I’m taken with the old adage, “A new broom sweeps clean.” Then again, the hand that guides the broom needs to know where to sweep. My newcomer’s hand doesn’t know that.
Often, this impatience gets planted in the call process. A congregation looks at its needs and identifies a pastor who can address those needs. That’s a set-up: “The new minister will solve our problems.” But I remain cautious. A problem usually has a history. If it could have been fixed, it would have been fixed long ago.
For example, let’s say the new congregation is divided over the hour of Sunday morning worship. The divided community says, “We will let the new minister decide what is the right time.” Since I do not want to lose half the community, I won’t decide the question. Instead, I tell them, “Say what time you want me to be there, and I will be there!”
In addition, quick decisions about intractable problems will probably make me look impetuous, arbitrary, and easily swayed. That is not the way to build trust.
Instead, I wait and listen, especially at the beginning. An anthropologist told me her graduate students learn the most about a new culture in their first fifteen minutes in it. Soon they become acclimatized and start seeing the world as the culture sees it.
So during the first year, while I’m freshly exposed to a new church culture, I actively take mental, and some literal, notes on the congregation. I’ve always found this type of listening a highly active process for me. I try to be present at everything; I skip nothing. I need to be seen much more than heard, partly because I don’t want to stick my foot in my mouth more than necessary!
In particular I ask: How are children treated—are they seen but not heard? How is money handled—do people always gripe, or is it never mentioned? Is the stranger made welcome here—do people personally take you over to the coffee hour and introduce you to others? Are families interrelated here—is this a literal or symbolic extended family? Is the building something of an icon to this church—do they revere its original design so much that any thought of change would be unthinkable to them?
Every congregation has a myriad of silent symbols. I need to learn these before I can lead. So I take notes, both appreciative and critical, on what I observe, and I keep them private.
These notes come in handy at the end of my first year. In exchange for not making changes for a year, I often ask the congregation to agree to receive a series of recommendations about their church after that first year. Because my recommendations are based on careful observation, and because a year’s worth of trust has been built, these recommendations are usually not only warmly received but create lasting changes.
Leadership is at least a two-legged creature. One leg steps out to where we ought to be going—the future. The other leg is rooted in where we are—the present. Some new ministers fall not because they have no vision, but because they have not gotten their balance where they are. The successful day-care program I inaugurated in First Church may be a disaster in St. Mark’s. The success or failure has nothing to do with you or the program; it has to do with first knowing the territory.
Introduction from the Pulpit
Most pastoral search committees want their minister first and foremost to preach effectively. Preaching is the one ministerial skill visible and accessible to the whole community. Thus, preaching is a key instrument in the first year of a pastorate.
That corresponds with the new minister’s desires, as well. When I’m new to a parish, I am eager to step into the pulpit. I’m also ready to redeliver my best sermons. However, I have always resisted both temptations.
In fact, if it is at all possible, before I ever preach, I try to worship first in the pews of the sanctuary. I may never have another chance to do that. As I sit, I notice how the service sounds from the pew, and I ask myself such questions as Where should I stand when 1 preach? Is there a microphone? and What happens when the speaker turns away from it?
I think I know such things because I have done them all before. But I have not done them in this place. So I familiarize myself with the unique setting of this congregation.
Soon enough I get to step into the pulpit. What do I say? Knowing that the community wants to become familiar with me, I preach so they can. For instance, I’ve begun by preaching a series of sermons on basic beliefs. That way the congregation and I will start speaking a common church vocabulary.
Further, I try not to use illustrations from my previous pastorate, not even illustrations that meant a lot to my former parishioners. This is a new community; I cannot count on them understanding as did my previous church. Besides, I want to start building illustrations that connect me with this congregation.
Getting to Know You
Preaching, in which people see me only in my “game uniform,” is only one part of getting acquainted. I also want them to know the person who wears the symbols of ministry. And I want to get to know them; that’s part of the fun of the first year in a new pastorate. I use four methods to accomplish that end.
• Write a booklet. For me, becoming acquainted involves teaching a congregation how to relate to a minister in general and me in particular. So even before arriving, I send my new congregation a small booklet about me and my concept of ministry. I tell them how honored I am to have been invited to become their new pastor. I describe how I became a minister, my credentials, and people and experiences that have influenced me.
I also tell them how to use me—what I like to do best and what I am good at. I tell them the day of the week I will be off. (I also point out that clergy work most when other people are at leisure: evenings, weekends, and holidays. Many are amazed to discover this simple truth.)
If they want me to know something, I ask them to tell me, not my wife. I explain my wife is not responsible for my schedule or my data bank. I tell them if they want to discuss church matters to call me at the church office, not at home. I point out how the church goes to considerable expense to have an office, a secretary, file cabinets, and a telephone at church for me to conduct church business there.
Since all this can be phrased tactfully, my booklet is well-received. My new parishioners not only get to know more of who I am but also how I want to be treated.
• Invite them over. Since I have an agreeable spouse, and since I’ve always enjoyed a lifestyle compatible with my congregations, I usually invite the entire congregation into my home in groups of twenty or so for an “Evening with the Pastor.” I keep it informal, maybe dessert and coffee, and simply have people mingle during the first part.
Then I invite the group to assemble, and I ask them each to offer their personal story, suggesting an outline to follow. I ask them to conclude by telling us about their fondest hope for our church. I am continually surprised at what I learn in this setting. And it’s guaranteed—next Sunday I will see them in church!
I’ve structured these social gatherings in a variety of ways. For instance, I’ve had afternoon teas for all who have been members for more than fifty years, cookouts for the youth group, and evenings with young families. Since I am still learning who is who, the board of deacons has helped me arrange invitations so the whole congregation is included.
In any case, having people into my home is a significant symbol. If the home is a parsonage, members need to see their own property. (Once, after doing this in a parsonage, there was a great rush to find a more “suitable” home for the minister!) Also, my home says something about my tastes, which say something about who I am.
• See them at work. If it’s possible, I try to visit my parishioners at their places of employment. First, however, I ask them to invite me to do so.
Although most don’t take me up on the invitation, many do. So I’ve had wonderful afternoons in factories, schools, offices, and airports. I often learn more about my parishioners in one visit than I could seeing them in church for a year. In addition, I’ve begun to identify with them and their concerns.
• Celebrate! The coming of a new minister is a festive moment for a congregation. They are glad to see us and want to welcome us into their community. It is an excuse for a party, and I’ve had no qualms about exploiting that festive spirit.
My denomination has a ritual for the installation of a new minister, but I’ve never felt like rushing the installation service. I don’t even mind waiting six months after I arrive if that gives us additional time to plan some festive moments for the church.
If music is the congregation’s forte, I invite the choirs and organist to plan an installation week music festival. I also invite the whole community for this spectacular event. Or we might have an art show, inviting local artists to present their works. Or we might have a picnic in a nearby public park, or a softball, golf, or horseshoe tournament. Most anything will do to celebrate the presence of a new minister!
In addition, a variety of supporting events can be added. I have twice invited local clergy to a special lecture given by a recognized religious leader. They listened to this visiting dignitary, had lunch, welcomed me, and went on about their day glad that a new colleague had come among them.
Special groups in the congregation need special welcoming parties. I have had ice cream and cake on the lawn with school-age children, rocked through a teenage dance, potlucked with seniors, and sat through sporting events with sports fans. All this frivolity in the name of welcoming a new pastor! The church became a place where everyone was welcomed and people enjoyed being together. Not a bad definition of community.
In pastoral work, most mistakes can be corrected. Not so with beginnings; I cannot begin at a congregation twice. So I’m especially urgent about using this unique opportunity well. If thoughtfully and imaginatively done, the events of the first year set a tone and approach that a pastor and congregation can enjoy for years to come.
Copyright © 1991 by Christianity Today
