Sacred Searching
by Frank  R.  Fisher, Obl OSB

It won't be long,
before you'll be searching
for your new pastor.
So I thought,
you'd like to hear
a chain letter
I received over the internet recently.
It's title was THE PERFECT PASTOR:

     The perfect pastor preaches exactly ten minutes -- condemns sin, but never
     hurts anyone's feelings.

     The perfect pastor works from 8 a.m. until midnight, and is also the
     church janitor.

     The perfect pastor makes $40 a week, wears good cloths (but not too good),
     drives a good car (but not too good), and donates $30 a week to the church.

     The perfect pastor is 29 years old with 40 years of experience.

     The perfect pastor makes 15 house calls a day and is always available at
     the office.

     If your pastor does not measure up, send this letter to six other parishes
     that are also dissatisfied with their pastor. Then bundle up and ship your
     pastor to the church at the top of the list. In one week you should receive
     1643 pastors -- and one of them should be perfect.

     Have faith in this letter. One parish broke the chain and got its old
     pastor back in three months.

From the comments
I've heard,
some of you
are thinking
your next pastor
will be the one
to find
the lost sheep
of this congregation.
The pastor
will un-do
all the trauma
you've had in the last few years.
The pastor,
you hope,
will take this congregation
back to the way
things were before.
The pastor
will be perfect.

I've been a member
of a congregation
who thought they had
a perfect pastor.

My family joined this congregation
when our children
were very little.
It was great!
There were kids
running all over the place.
A new youth program
had just been started.
And a new staff member
had just been hired
to minister to older adults
and handle adult Christian Education.

All the activity
in this congregation
centered
on the pastor.
He was one of the best preachers
I've ever heard.
He was a dynamo
who was constantly in action.

No one knew it
at the time,
but the pressures of being perfect
led to his seducing
a woman
who'd come to him
for counseling.

Our congregation
was devastated.
But we were determined
to find
that perfect person
to replace the person
who'd failed us.

So the PNC
went into a lengthy search.
And we found,
the ideal pastors;
a clergy couple
who were great in teaching,
preaching,
pastoral care,
and spirituality.
Then,
we tore them apart.
Their three years with us
were such agony
that one member of the couple,
an incredibly gifted pastor,
will never serve a congregation
again.

You see,
we were so intent
on the perfection of the pastor
we forgot who it was
we as Christians
were called to follow.
We became so intent
on the search for our pastor
that to us,
the word pastor
became a synonym
for savior.

"Everything will be perfect,"
we thought,
"after the pastor comes."
All the damage done
by the past pastor
would miraculously
be healed.
Our membership
would skyrocket into the sky.
And our congregation
would regain all the glory
of that mountain top time.

In the end
all we can say now
is,
"our bad."

No one
could have met
our expectations.
If we'd found the reincarnation
of John Calvin
he couldn't have done it.
We set our co-pastors up.
By thinking of them
as our messiah,
by expecting
that the salvation of our congregation
would come from them,
we set them up to fail.
When we found out
they weren't the messiahs
we expected,
the backlash was so bad
that it literally tore them
into pieces.
Since then
those pastors have shown me
the unsigned notes they received
and told me about the comments
they were given.
They were incredibly bad.
I would've never thought
our "friendly congregation"
could be that hurtful.

My sisters and brothers,
I fear you're setting up
a similar situation.
Not a few of you
have told me
in different words
that you sincerely hope and blieve
your future pastor
will be the savior
of this congregation.

I can understand that.
I can understand
how you'd like to find
that perfect someone.

But it can't happen that way.
If you place those expectations
on the woman or man
you will call here,
you too
will be setting someone up
to fail.
And believe me
neither you,
nor your pastor,
will like the consequences
when that failure occurs.

I suggest instead,
you abandon the idea
of searching for
salvation
in the form
of a pastor.

M. Scott Peck tells a story
about what
I believe
you should search for
instead.

Once upon a time,
 there was a monastery
 that had fallen upon hard times.
Once a great order,
 as a result of waves of persecution,
and the rise of secularism,
all the branch houses were lost.
It had become
  decimated
 to the point
 that there were only five elders,
 all nuns and monks,
left in the decaying hermitage.
 The abbot  and four others
 were all over seventy in age.
Clearly
it was a dying order.

In the deep woods
 surrounding the hermitage
 there was a little hut
 that a rabbi
  from a nearby town
 occasionally
 used for a retreat.
 Through their many years
 of prayer and contemplation
 the elders had become a bit psychic,
 so they could always sense
when the rabbi was in her hut.
 "The rabbi is in the woods,
 the rabbi is in the woods again,"
they would whisper to each other.

As he agonized
over the imminent death
 of the order,
 it occurred to the abbot
 to visit the hut
 and ask the rabbi
if by some possible chance
 she could offer any advice
 that might save the order.

The rabbi welcomed the abbot
 at her hut.
 But
 when the abbot explained
 the purpose of his visit,
 the rabbi
 could only commiserate with him.
 "I know how it is,"
 she exclaimed.
 "The spirit
has gone out of the people.
It is the same in my town.
 Almost no one comes
to the synagogue anymore."

 So the old abbot
 and the old rabbi
 wept together.
Then they read parts of the Torah
and quietly spoke
 of deep things.

The time came
 when the abbot had to leave.
They embraced each other.
"It has been a wonderful thing
 that we should meet
after all these years,"
the abbot said,
"but I have still failed
 in my purpose
for coming here.
Is there nothing
you can tell me,
no piece of advice
you can give me
that would help me
save my dying order?"

"No,
 I'm sorry,"
 the rabbi responded.
 "I have no advice to give.
 The only thing I can tell you
 is that you will find the Messiah
among you."

When the abbot returned to the hermitage
the others gathered around him  to  ask,
 "Well,
 what did the rabbi say?"
"She couldn't help,"
 the abbot answered.
"We just wept
and read the Torah together.

 The only thing she did say,
 just as I was leaving,
 it was something cryptic,
 was we would find the Messiah
among us.
I don't know what she meant."

In the following days
 and weeks
 and months,
the elders pondered this
and wondered
 whether
there was any possible significance
 to the rabbi's words.

We will find the
  Messiah
among us.
Could she possibly have meant
one of us here
at the hermitage?
If that's the case,
who is it?

Do you suppose
she meant the abbot?
 Yes,
 if she meant anyone,
she probably meant
Father Abbot.
He's been our leader
for more than a generation.

On the other hand,
she might have meant
 Brother Thomas.
 Certainly Brother Thomas
 is holy.
 Everyone knows
Thomas
is a man of light.

 Certainly
 she could not have meant
Sister Ellen!
Ellen
gets crotchety at times.
But come to think of it,
even though she's a thorn
in people's sides,
when you look back on it,
Ellen
 is virtually
 always
 right.
 Often very right.
Maybe the rabbi did mean
 Sister Ellen.

But surely not Brother Phillip.
Phillip is so passive,
a real nobody.
But then,
almost mysteriously,
he has a gift
 for somehow always being there
when you need him
and saying the right thing.
Maybe Phillip
is the Messiah.

Could the Rabbi have meant
that we'd find the Messiah
in one of those who come to us
for aid?
But they are all so poor
and often
quite dirty!
Surely the messiah
would not be found like that!
Yet the scripture does tell us
what we do to the least of these
is done to our Lord.

Of course
the rabbi didn't mean me.
She couldn't possibly
have meant me.
I'm just an ordinary person.
Yet supposing she did?
Suppose
I'm the Messiah.

O God,
 not me.
 I couldn't be
that much for You,

could I?

As they contemplated
 in this manner,
 the elders began to treat each other,
and everyone they met
with extraordinary respect
on the off chance
that one among them
might
actually
be the Messiah.

And on the off,
off
 chance
 that each elder
might himself or herself
be the Messiah,
they began to treat themselves
with extraordinary respect.

Because the forest
in which it was situated
was beautiful,
it so happened
 people still occasionally
came to visit the hermitage
to picnic on its
tiny lawn,
to wander
along some of its paths,
even now and then
to go into the dilapidated chapel
to meditate.

As they did so,
without even being conscious of it,
they sensed
 this aura of extraordinary respect
that now began
 to surround the five elders.
It seemed to radiate out from them
and permeate
the atmosphere of the place.
 There was something
strangely attractive,
 even compelling,
 about it.

 Hardly knowing why,
they began to come back
to the hermitage
more frequently to picnic,
to play,
 to pray.
They
began to bring their friends
to show them
this special place.
And their friends
brought their friends.

Then it happened
that some of the younger persons
who came to visit the hermitage
started to talk
more and more
with the elders.
After a while one asked
if she could join them.
Then another.
 And another.

So within a few years
 the hermitage
had once again
become a thriving order.
And,
 thanks to the rabbi's gift,
a vibrant center of light
 and spirituality
 in the realm."

You
are a wonderful
congregation.
You are gifted
with great resources,
both personal and otherwise.
I believe
there can be a bright future
in front of you.
But no pastor
will take you there.
Instead,
begin looking for your guide
amongst yourselves.

Oh,
and before I forget,
there's something I must tell you.

You will find the messiah
among you.

To God alone be glory.

Amen.

(Comments to Frank at f.fisher.obl.osb@COMCAST.NET.)