Nurturing ministry
Clive Ashwin reflects on the nature of spoken ministry
Rembrandt’s etching Christ Preaching (1652) is a remarkable work of art, but it is also a penetrating essay on the nature of spoken ministry, which can provide us with valuable pointers as to its role and purpose today.
Christ stands in the centre on a raised terrace, surrounded by an audience which suggests all stations of man and woman. We read their thoughts and reactions in their facial expressions and body language.
A middle-aged man scratches his chin in a classic pose of thoughtful reflection. The well-fed merchant to the left of Christ is perhaps reflecting upon his moral condition. The listeners to the right, with their backs to the wall, huddle against the cold while deep in thought. The bearded man in the cap seems to be rising spontaneously, as if struck by some sudden shaft of enlightenment.
On the far left, the two men in exotic garb and turbans remind us that the Amsterdam of Rembrandt’s day was a major commercial and multicultural city, with merchants converging from all over the world.
Christ stands with his open hands raised in a classic attitude of peace, his eyes directed significantly to the nursing mother and to the child, drawing with his finger in the dust and oblivious of the significance of the momentous events around him.
Spoken ministry has always been, and remains, a central part of Quaker worship. It is one of the principal means by which we communicate and share spiritual insight. But there are several ways in which it is different from other forms of oral communication, even in the context of worship. It is not a sermon, which is prepared in detail in advance and delivered at an appointed time. Still less is spoken ministry a speech aimed at persuading a listening public of a point of view.
John Woolman
In 1741 John Woolman perceptively defined one who delivers spoken ministry as ‘like a trumpet, through which the Lord speaks to his flock’. A publication of 1986 expressed the same idea in the observation that: ‘It comes through us, not from us.’
The term ‘ministry’ is derived from the Latin minus, meaning ‘less than’ or ‘subordinate to’, and gives us modern words like ‘minus’ and ‘minority’. A minister is literally a servant, and ministry a form of service. Those who minister acknowledge that they are servants of a higher truth.
Finding the right path to spoken ministry, but avoiding the sermon, the speech, the argument or the intellectual exercise is a challenge that faces all Quakers and all Meetings. This challenge is different for every individual Meeting, but in different ways because of wide variations in the size and nature of its membership.
In very large Meetings sometimes only the most experienced and confident feel able to offer ministry. In small Meetings the responsibility for spoken ministry falls more evenly across its membership, and some who would feel daunted to speak before a large Meeting will respond to this sense of need.
Although ministry is not a sermon or a prepared speech, good ministry often arises from a personal experience – sometimes recent, sometimes in the distant past – which has provided some kind of spiritual illumination. When the time is right, this long incubated memory can flower and emerge as ministry, sharing that insight with the Meeting.
Rising to minister
Rising to minister is a challenge. If it were easy, it would probably not be ministry. We are all familiar with the strictures against idle, casual or inappropriate ministry. Sometimes the challenge is felt to be insuperable, and potentially good ministry can remain forever suppressed and lost to the Meeting. Small Meetings, in particular, need to find ways of easing the path to ministry. One helpful measure is to share the responsibility for reading Advices & queries. Simply getting used to addressing the Meeting in this way can overcome an otherwise insuperable barrier and build personal confidence for future ministry.
Ministering can unleash unforeseen and powerful feelings in the speaker. Sometimes the flow stops while the speaker struggles to find the right words. The Meeting waits in supportive calm, without any sense of urgency. A frequent feeling after ministering is: ‘Oh dear, I have made a total fool of myself!’ This experience can be frightening and wounding, resulting, I believe, in some cases in a lasting feeling of alienation.
The exalted and the humble
Meetings should ensure that those who minister are supported and discreetly thanked for what they have offered. If it was heartfelt and sincere, it does not matter that perhaps only one person was helped by their ministry; even if that person was the speaker.
It might appear impertinent to begin by reflecting upon Christ’s ministry and continue with ministry in the average Quaker Meeting. But the true spirit has a way of permeating the whole of human life, from the most exalted to the most humble. As Erasmus of Rotterdam observed: ‘Perhaps the spirit of Christ is more largely diffused than we think, and there are many in the community of saints who are not in our calendar.’
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