Shortly after being elected Bishop of the Diocese of East Tennessee, I first heard it. As a new bishop, I would be “drinking from a firehose.” I heard it from bishops. I heard it from friends and colleagues. When I arrived at College for Bishops, the community of formation for bishops, I heard it.
And each time I heard it, I had the same reaction. Drinking from a firehose is torture. It would hurt your mouth. You wouldn’t be able to drink any water and quench a thirst. You would end up dehydrated and bruised. You would end up dead.
Other than that, the experience was great.
As I entered the work of a bishop, I realized I did not believe the image of drinking from a firehose accurately described what was before me, or how any new bishop should approach the work.
The firehose image is a setup. It invites you to overwork. It invites you to submit to a less than humane approach to work. It suggests you will learn to get used to a pace that is not sustainable. It also suggests a kind of frantic nature to the work. For years, I have known I did not find the firehose image helpful. I recently have discovered another way to think about the work of a bishop and water and sustainable ministry.
Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” (John 4:13-14)
The image is living water. Jesus promises that there is water he can give us that can quinch our thirst. More than that, it is a water that causes all thirst to end. Talk about “energy water.”
As servant leaders in the church of Jesus, as ministers who model for other ministers, perhaps we ought to push against this image of work rooted in torture. Might we embrace, instead, an image of work rooted in the teaching and life of Jesus? I am not naïve. I know that there are days in the life and ministry of a bishop when many things are coming at us quickly. But how we respond is best rooted in the life of the One who can give us living water instead of taking on a posture of harried reaction.
To drink from living water is to satisfy the thirst, to meet the human need with a divine gift. Over the course of a bishop’s ministry, one hopes more believers rooted in this divine gift, more disciples of Jesus whose thirst is satisfied with his living water, certainly not less. If such a posture of prayer and contemplation, of dependence on the living water, is to spread and multiply, then it has to begin with bishops and other clergy.
If we form our bishops for a ministry rooted in living water — instead of this firehose abuse — we could thereby frame and model ministry for others in a way that is grounded in deep prayer and thoughtful response. For me, most of my mistakes in this work have happened when I reacted too quickly, when I decided without consulting the greater wisdom in our diocese. These were moments when I felt there was not time for others’ input.
From my perspective, I see more people with a desire to cultivate contemplative practice who often find those practices removed from the regular patterns of life in the Church. Initially, that made no sense to me.
Yet if the Church speaks of firehoses and constant work demands, then no wonder people do not expect us to teach contemplative practices, let alone practice them. An approach to the episcopate rooted in living water — a life of contemplative prayer, intentional community, deliberate consultation and reflection, nourished by word and sacrament — is consistent with the teaching ministry on bishops. And if such a pattern of life is adopted purposely by our bishops, it may multiply among those served by bishops, that is, the Church of the One who promised living water.
My hope is that we can build a community in the House of Bishops of those who can turn off the firehoses and drink from sources that feed our souls and the souls of those under our care.
