What Ever Happened to the Cure of Souls?

Is ‘leadersmithing’ what the Church really needs these days? An article in last week’s Church Times (Comment, Church Times 3^rd March, 2017) has left me wondering about this. 

Leadership, as the article suggests, is becoming more than ever a skill, ideally to be learned in one of those hothouses for training talent-spotted future bishops and archbishops. 'The word 'leadersmith' implies something like 'coping'. It also has a rough hewn edge to it. It resonates with the earth and the workaday business of the factory shop floor. But the sad reality, when it comes to leadership in the Church, is that it is more often about stress of management. Perhaps the emphasis on the kind of skill needed to achieve and then survive in high office in the Church also involves learning how to engage with the kind of rivalry that goes on beneath the surface when career clericalism is revealed for what it really is.

  

While ambition and personal advancement are to be expected, though not necessarily desirable, in the context of secular organisations, is ‘leadersmithing’, really how the Church of God should be shaping its future leaders? I seem to remember Christ warning his disciples against such an approach, offering them instead a young child as a model of true leadership. Perhaps he was thinking of Isaiah 11:6. Admittedly, the child must have been very young, given that most children, once they are old enough to go to playgroup, very quickly learn how to fend for themselves in regard to power and territorial ownership. Chanel 4’s The Secret Life of Four Year Olds ought to be mandatory viewing for those picked for high office in the Church.

Power and being childlike are, of course, incompatible. Furthermore, power is seldom accompanied by authority. With a few notable exceptions (Barack Obama and Pope Francis being two of them), powerful people are often more childish than childlike, especially when their grip on power is threatened. More than one world leader springs to mind in this latter regard. These people have little genuine authority. They are an example of how childishness, if not outgrown in childhood, becomes dominant self interest in later life. Dominant self interest, and the envious rivalry to which it too often gives rise, does not elicit respect or bestow the kind of authority needed for true leadership.

True leadership brings with it the authority which comes with transparent love for the people a leader is called to serve. This is what Jesus meant by being childlike. A leader who has this quality will be instantly recognisable and trusted because the nature of their love is essentially sacrificial. For clergy, whatever their rank, sacrificial love is what is entailed in what used to be called ‘the cure of souls’. It remains the essence of our calling today.

Having the cure of souls involves commitment to God. In other words, it involves all the time that it takes for a person to be able to see themselves and others as God sees them. In terms of how they perceive themselves, this will inevitably lead to a ‘refining’ sacrifice. The cure of souls involves the refining of one’s own soul first. For one thing, it will demand that the ordained person be prepared to let go of all that they hold to be important in terms of their career in the Church.

Career clericalism is arguably one of the aspects of Church life which most undermines the work of mission and evangelism. There are few things more incompatible with the good news of Christ’s gospel than a distant and overly busy bishop who has little time for his or her clergy – or the priest who, when the peace is being shared, is too busy looking to see how many people are in church that Sunday to make eye contact with the person in front of them who is in need of a small moment of their undivided loving attention. Those who turn to the clergy for wisdom or understanding may want to speak of their hidden fears in regard to the state of the world, or to someone they love. They expect to see, or sense, the loving kindness of God working through the priest or bishop. They expect to see the face of Christ in that person. Sometimes they do.

 

Glimmer of Hope

Source: cbsnews.com

Yesterday, I read of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s moving tribute to the victims of Auschwitz, which he was visiting for the second time. There was another quite different tribute from President Obama, his farewell speech to the people he has served for the past eight years. I read or listened to them within hours of each other. In between, I took in my daily dose of the goings-on at Trump Tower and other power enclaves pertaining to the incoming US President and his chosen few, some of whom are already distancing themselves from their master. Hopefully, they will at least put some brakes on the madness.

Hope is what we need right now – hope in the face of real global danger and the human capacity for pure evil, as Archbishop Justin Welby described it from Auschwitz. Hope is sustained by a basic faith in people, that people have goodness and wisdom in them, even in the darkest of times.

Most of us hope we can simply do a little better this year than we did in previous years. But hope is not just a matter of wanting to do a little better. “Could do better” was what we used to read in our school reports, the most damning indictment and signal of hopelessness that any child could receive. I think I would have preferred to have been deliberately and downright bad at something, than to be told that I ‘could do better’. I have often wondered if the teacher was simply in a hurry to get through her pile of reports. Could she (it was always a ‘she’ in my case) put a face to the name? And if she could, did she care enough to qualify that terse remark, a remark which can completely skew an individual’s life? ‘Could do better’, but somehow never will.. because.. who knows? And who cares? Next report card.

There is a connection to be made here between authentic teachers and genuine leaders. Both have power to a greater or lesser extent, power over people’s lives or over the future of nations. Genuine, or authentic, leaders are also innately teachers. They have authority. What is needed from leaders is not power but authority. Power is not the same as authority and it rarely brings out the good either in those who have power or in those over whom they exercise it. It is possible to be powerful and have little or no genuine authority (as with certain media and business moguls) and equally possible to have real authority but little or no power, Christ himself being the supreme example of this.

Authentic leaders embody hope because they have this Christ-like authority. They have no need to posture in any way, to adopt a public figura. They are quite comfortable being who they are, even if they are not naturally gregarious. They do not court popularity or put themselves in a position where they are obliged to return favours. They simply want the best for the people they serve, whatever form their leadership takes, whatever the power, and whatever the status it does or does not bring with it. Their authority speaks to the goodness in people and so brings hope. As the outgoing President said in his farewell speech “Democracy works when our politics reflect the decency of our people”. Authentic leaders teach hope through example, thereby bequeathing real political authority to those they serve.

Authority in leaders is often recognised as a glimmer of hope, in small gestures which speak of mercy and the loving kindness of God. They have a certain way of making eye contact. They take a certain affectionate initiative in all their encounters with people. They often have formidable powers of recall. The previous Archbishop of Canterbury could meet someone in a local church gathering and remember their name, only having met the person a number of years before on the day he confirmed them. Years later, he would greet them in a way which signified genuine recognition, saying their name in the way you do when you meet an old friend. That is authentic leadership.

In embodying God’s mercy and loving kindness, authentic leaders are bearers of hope. Hope is not the same thing as optimism. It is not conveyed through mere conviviality. It is not some passing joy, gone with the handshake. Optimism often comes with not being prepared to look at unpleasant realities and come to terms with the things, or the people, they fear – not being prepared to look them in the eye. For certain kinds of leaders, optimism is best conveyed through minimal eye contact because the optimist really has nothing to say to the person whose hand they are shaking. Eye contact makes a powerful person vulnerable to being asked questions. The slightest social exchange makes them accountable as leaders.

An optimist does not make a good leader. Authentic leaders will have looked at what people fear and felt the fear themselves, alone, perhaps as they pray or meditate. Such moments return them to their people in the deepest sense and return them to God who alone is the source of hope. Prayer and meditation return us to the place of our own innate goodness, and to where the wisdom of God indwells us as a people. It ought to be the bedrock of our politics.

True authority and the conflicts of today

Jesus provokes the religious leaders of his time in a number of contexts. He disturbs the status quo by threatening individual power bases, including religious ones. He outrages the authorities by openly challenging them in his teaching and through subversive behaviour, such as driving out the money lenders from the temple. But most significantly, he threatens their authority by winning people’s trust. He connects with people. In other words, he connects with the truth which they inherently sense but seldom hear spoken, or witness in the lives of the powerful. In Jesus they experience truth as something understood at a primary level of human consciousness. They experience truth, rather than just hear it discussed. This is what makes the authority of Jesus recognisably authentic.

Authority comes with trust. True authority is always given, or entrusted, but it does not always come with power. In fact, Jesus refused to be seduced by power. As a result, his authority challenged and disturbed the powerful. The authority of Jesus was not the same as political power. Through the authority given him by the Father, he inspired and changed lives and convinced people of the love of God, but he did not get rid of the Roman occupying forces. Instead, with the authority given him, he radically changed the destiny of the world. He set it on a different course.

It is authority and not power that is needed today with regard to the conflicts raging in the Middle East. We need an authority which is vested in God’s love for all of humanity, and so capable of changing the world, but which at the same time has been entrusted to our leaders by us, through the democratic process. Trust has to have been earned if authority is to be freely given. It is probably fair to say that political authority is rarely earned in the way God would have it earned, with the exception of one or two rare individuals – Myanmar’s President Aung San Suu Kyi being one which springs to mind.

Entrusting authority to world leaders does not exempt the rest of us from taking responsibility for what they do with it. So they should know that we expect and demand that the wisest, most truthful and most judicious course of action be taken in our name. For us at present, this involves taking responsibility for our country’s active engagement in  a conflict which has been brought about by violent extremism borrowed from religion, and from the lust for power. There are issues of genocide, our own security and that of other countries at stake, all of which return us to the question of authority rightfully earned and exercised in the interest of the freedom and safety of all. ISIS has no such authority. This is also true for those who facilitate or support its actions.

People of faith, as well as those who do not think of themselves as religious, should give religious and secular leaders who are engaged in the urgent business of defeating this particular evil their full and heartfelt attention. Giving such attention is a business which concerns us all. Attentiveness means being alongside the world’s leaders in heart and mind,– in other words, in that part of the heart which also thinks. This does not mean agreeing with them. In fact attentiveness will inevitably face us with some uncomfortable truths regarding other conflicts that we have caused, been involved with, or simply stood by and allowed to happen, Gaza and Israel being one of the most recent examples.

Nevertheless, where there is a heart and head attentiveness, there is also hope. We have had brief and surprising glimpses of what this kind of attentiveness could lead to. Who, for example, could have imagined that a group of leaders whose countries have long distrusted one another and, in some cases, declared themselves to be in a state of mutual enmity, would sit around a table in order to plan how they might best work together to overcome the evil being manifested through the murderous activities of ISIS? The scenario is of course far more complicated, but something of wisdom and common sense is at work here. Something of true authority is being exercised. It shows that an evil which is everyone’s problem requires a concerted and judicious response. If, either as individual nations or collectively, we do nothing, we shall all be responsible for a growing violent anarchy which is capable of doing immense harm to those its perpetrators hate most. This is true both in its own sphere of influence and in the wider global context.

But we are also implicated when we act. This is why trust is so badly needed in politics today. Exercising authority in a judicious way means doing the right thing for the right reason. But this can only be done with the support and trust of a majority who want the same just and peaceful outcome, including those of us who may not be 100% sure that a particular course of action is the right one tactically or as part of a broader strategy, but do know that we need to act. 

Exercising authority in the way God would like us to exercise it begins with humility. It means that the authority given comes with an awareness that our human and often short term thinking does not always turn out for the best for the greatest number of people. Such authority involves us all, so let’s try to be more deeply attentive to those who are accountable to us for the decisions they make in our name.