Editor’s Note: This is second part of a two-part essay. The first part may be found here.
Part II: The Business
In the first part of this two-part essay on the priest’s week, I outlined some of the anchor points of ministry, those disciplined patterns of life that keep me on track as a priest and ensure I don’t slip into managing an operation. All that follows must be set in the light of the rhythms and priorities I described in Part I.
The weekly work of a priest does have quite a few “business” tasks, even if relationships are still at the core. After I’ve begun the day in a spirit of prayer, the succeeding hours do include a list of tasks to be done, and often daily. This includes returning and making phone calls, drafting and responding to emails, and the ever-increasing flurry of texts. To be sure, there is ample office work, including reviewing finances, assessing the maintenance of a church campus (with others), and not infrequently navigating relationships and expectations from diocesan leadership (parochial reports, assessments, conventions, required clergy days).
There is also completing bulletins or other liturgical planning and preparation, and this is expanded if pastoral offices like weddings or funerals are occurring. There may also be a lunch out or taking a walk with a parishioner or meeting with a clergy colleague to plan a shared event or program. A large part of ministry is also sharing in leadership. This means meeting with the wardens, not only about the business of the vestry, but also hearing their clarity of vision and mission.
But there are also variables in ministry. Pastoral work emerges; people get sick; accidents happen; unforeseen needs crop up. Whenever the phone rings outside of office hours, it is invariably someone looking for help. Most of the requests are, in one form or another, for money. I learned early in the ministry only to give cash in selective circumstances. It was much more effective to write a check for part of the rent or electricity or to purchase a grocery-store gift card. Sometimes the ring at the doorbell will be someone in emotional or spiritual distress. In my flesh, I want to feel that these interruptions are a disturbance to the tranquility owed to me, but of course it is often the interruptions that are at the heart of ministry.
As C.S. Lewis so deftly puts it in The Screwtape Letters, Satan loves to entice us with resentment and annoyance by the lie that our time belongs to us. If our bodies, talents, and material wealth are held by us in trust, why do we so often slip into the illusion that our time belongs to us and that we are free to order it as we see fit? The surprising ring of the bell, the unexpected phone call asking me to come to the sick bed of a parishioner, or the person in distress who stops me on the street are reminders of the outward focus of this work.
At the close of the day, I am back home, where my truest legacy may be. A Christian home ought to be a kind of chapel. In church, we are called to mutual service and to nurture the faith in the children and youth or those new to faith. We do this work best when our love for the Lord puts us in concert with one another. We praise the Lord for our redemption and give thanks for his many blessings. We confess our faults humbly before him. The same vision inspires the Christian family: To serve one another; to be ready to admit fault; to express our common love for Jesus Christ; and to model and teach the faith for Christ’s precious ones.
As a priest, I accept that most of the spiritual growth I see will be incremental and much of my labor will be sowing without any short-term visible returns. But with my children, there is the greatest chance to shape their lives. The love, care, and discipline we give, the laughs, hugs, and games we share, the prayers we make together are, God willing, a legacy of faith and brotherhood.
When my two oldest were fairly young, I started reading age-appropriate books aloud as the last item before bed. Though they are older now, we still enjoy our time to listen together and experience a book as one. The complexity of the offerings has grown with age. This year we read The Iliad, True Grit, and the folklore of early Texas. Though it comes at the end of the day, family time is far from the least. My prayerful hope is that in the light of eternity, it might be the first of all my works in the Lord.
It is more, then, than three days’ work.
This two-part essay was excellent. Thank you for the encouragement.