Emma Percy’s “What Clergy Do”

Emma Percy, What Clergy Do: Especially When it Looks like Nothing. London: SPCK, 2014.

Emma Percy’s What Clergy Do: Especially When it Looks like Nothing, brings the imagery of motherhood, the role of the parish priest, and “good enough” into dialogue. Every page felt like a good word reassuring that both my mothering and my priesting is “good enough” while reminding me that I cannot be all things to all people or can I mother and priest like all other people. Percy’s text highlights three important features of this human endeavor of priesthood inspired by God’s holy and gracious call: 1. The need to eradicate comparison and competitiveness; 2. Humble and substantial presence will carry one through the day in and day out; and 3. Neither care giving for children nor God’s beloved gathered in a parish is easy and comfortable. Overall, this text is a text that should be employed in seminary pastoral education classes due to its grammatical accessibility and practical application.

1. The need to eradicate comparison and competitiveness Percy’s bold approach to articulating concepts means that her sentences function as cleverly disguised scalpels. While reading I found myself intermittently getting frustrated and sometimes mad, feeling exposed and raw. Ugh! I’d say aloud This is all so much! How am I ever going to be good at this job! But that’s the point of the text (or at least one of the points I experienced). It’s not about being “good” or, rather, “the best…better than all the rest!” Percy exposed my persistent tendencies to intellectually and emotionally default to a competitive posture in the world of being a parish priest by which I would compare myself ruthlessly to other “more successful” and “killing it” priests. As a small parish pastor, I can lose myself in the deadly game of comparison that grows into competition; it is hard game to win when I feel dwarfed by the looming specter of failure always at my red, episcopal door. But yet, Percy’s constant refrain, “good enough” was a soothing balm to my exposed and raw situation; I can be “good enough” because it is God who works through me, it is about God’s good word in Christ Jesus, and because, at the end of the day, the Spirit is always with me and us as we—together as part of the body of Christ—bring God’s mission of the revolution of love, life, and liberation into the world. Percy’s text liberated me from myself to render me of (divine) use for my neighbor (both inside and outside the church).

2. Humble and substantial presence will carry one through the day-in and day-out Percy reminded me that even though removing myself from the game of comparison and competition is a good step, it can’t be the only step. Considering the scientific axiom, nature abhors a vacuum, the elimination of something demands filling that void with something substantial or anything could be sucked into that empty space. Here, Percy’s chapters provided me with access to what it looks like to come to terms with myself (who am I as a mom? As a Priest?) and then to be honest, really honest with myself—being willing to let the mythologies I present to the world and to my own mind about who and what I am and able to do be exposed by the light of truth and reality. In the theological world inspired by the reformational insights the Martin Luther, Percy asks her reader to “call a thing what it is” or, more pastorally, “to call yourself who you are” and then to work from that point. Being able to be honest with yourself is the first step of humble motherhood and priesthood. And in being honest, according to Percy, we will gain further access to the liberation of “Good enough” that bears the fruit of life, real, fleshy, messy, human-y life—the type of life that can go the distance because it gets back up when it falls, and it gets back down when it gets too high up. When we come to terms with who we are by being exposed by the cross of Christ, we are brought through that death into the new life of Christ’s resurrection. Percy’s text is founded on this gospel movement from and through death into the new life bathed in the light of Christ. Being a mom and being a priest is for the long haul, Percy points out, it is not easy to try to rush to a goal thus rendering all the people caught between you and the goal as the ground you are walking upon. Percy exhorts humble, substance filled, present tense being…for today we are good enough.

3. Neither caregiving for children nor God’s beloved gathered in a parish is easy and comfortable This speaks for itself. Percy’s book reveals the frank reality that parish life as well as home life isn’t easy, and it certainly isn’t comfortable. I believe Percy exposes that our church structure has gone too far the way of corporate thinking. As a priest, I am called to support my people, to encourage them toward the liberative word of God that is Christ and to make time and space for them to be nourished by the presence of the Spirit in word and deed, in the pews and at the table. This is an inverted corporate structure; I am not a religious tyrant with everyone having to serve me or needing to placate my bloated (narcissistic?) ego. I serve my congregation by teaching, preaching, and leading worship (i.e. making space regularly for each beloved to come into an encounter with God in the event of faith); my congregation doesn’t serve me. I think we’ve too frequently gotten it wrong and have harmed one too many of God’s fold while we’ve been in pursuit of what feeds me most, what is best for me, what keeps me most comfortable. Here the fruit of liberation that is love that first loves us comes to the surface; we are to love others as we have been so loved by God, and, often, as God has loved us. Luther exhorted preachers to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.” Percy’s text, What Clergy Do, is that good word that rattles the cushy seat of the priest and wakes them up, summons them out of comfortability, and prepares and equips them for the hard work of “good enough.” And therein Percy, after afflicting the comfortable, comforts the afflicted like the excellent teacher, scholar, and pastor she is.

Hanna Reichel’s “After Method”

Three preliminary thoughts:

First, I never thought that there would be a text that would pick up the mantel left by Christine Helmer at the end of her “Theology and the End of Doctrine.” But there is. It’s Hanna Reichel’s text, “After Method.” And much like Helmer’s text, the title is both misleading and spot on: doctrine and method are not bad, but calcified doctrines and methods can be—to summarize bluntly. If I had the opportunity to build an “Introduction to Theology” course, I’m quite certain I’d frame that course around these two texts. I’ve yet to encounter any text that could rival the clarity and depth provided by Helmer and Reichel.

Second, if you have ever read a theologian who seemed to be “straying from the pack” and “doing her own thing,” Reichel’s text gives you the reason why. I want to place this text *before* all Dorothee Sölle’s texts because I see deep kinship in what Reichel proposes and what a Lutheran theologian outlier–like Sölle–did. I read Reichel’s book and felt a wave of vindication for someone like Sölle. “See!” I wanted to holler at all the historical nay-sayers, “THIS! This is what she was doing.”

Third, I was so burnt out on Althaus-Reid from the way cis-het, white, men had treated the material that I was turned off by the idea of diving in as deep as Reichel wanted me, too. However, here Reichel demonstrates that they themself are trying to be the theologian demanded of in this text. They represented the material to me, recast the lighting, pointed out different aspects I was unfamiliar with, critiqued and praised the work, and in the end gave me something new. Like restoring something to original form what was disfigured due to abuse, Reichel demonstrates their God-given theological and professorial talent and skill. (They do the same for Barth, too! I felt a refreshing invigoration urging me to take up, once again, some of those big Barth tomes!)

Now, “After Method”…

Reichel brings together two unlikely dialogue partners and demonstrates their compatibility without destroying their distinctions and differences. Never once did I think that Reformed Theology following Barth ever eclipsed Queer Theology following Althaus-Reid. In the process, Reichel demonstrates her thesis to the reader that “Better Theology” is not a retreat into archaic dogma, standing on the shore of “safe” and “traditionalism” nor is it a complete jettisoning of all that has come before and diving headfirst into the deep waters of the “just not that!” Rather, it’s a willingness and maturity to step into the void caused by the collision of the history and tradition of Systematic Theology and creativity and curiosity of Constructive Theology. It’s an exhortation to hear backwards and forwards because in hearing backwards and forwards we have something to say in the present and that then guarantees our mutual future together with bits of the past and bits of what is to come. Reichel’s book demands theologians to grow up! and get to the good and hard work of their hands to do theology and method for the wellbeing of others (ref Ephesians 4)

Throughout the text, the demand to do “Better” theology takes on pastoral and professional implications. To be/do better in this theological space will have tremendous impact for the world; better theology is not static but dynamic, it is not solid but fluid, it is not stuck but liberated and moving toward others–whoever those others are. In all of it I couldn’t shake an image from my moments of being a stay-at-home parent with my littles. I’ll share that image because I think it does better to some up what this text asks of us for the sake of the world:

When my eldest (now threatening to turn 18) was little, he would spend his waking hours playing and exploring (as toddlers do) by dragging everything out: toys, shoes, pots and pans, cans from the pantry, bottles form the fridge, essentially whatever he could get his hands on. At some point, I wearied from picking up everything after him all the time. I decided to just let the chaos reign! What I didn’t know then—which was only an action of desperate surrender rather a stroke of brilliant parenting—was that by letting him get *everything* and *whatever* out, he would blend into one many different things. Legos, train tracks, and a chutes and ladder’s game; pots, lids, and many DC figurines; finger paints, markers, and whatever was inside that sandwich. He learned that *a* toy or *a* pot didn’t have *a* use only to be put back in a box and tucked away again and never retrieved until that *use* was necessary. He learned that many different things worked together, even if it meant that I was on my hands and knees at 9pm hunting down that last puzzle piece or figurine from under the couch. The mess was absolutely necessary for him to play *better* and *bigger* and to give his little world something new…

I think Reichel is encouraging us to play with all of our toys! And, having read Barth’s “Ethics,” I assume that idea isn’t far from their mind. This book dares its reader to find joy again in the task of doing theology—joy *and* fun! It’s an exhortation for us to get all our toys out and to see what new things can be made—the good ones we push forward and the bad ones, well, we should take them down. There’s creativity and flexibility that can define the theologian that has been held hostage by fear and anger; Reichel does well to recover this creativity and flexibility and give it back to their reader. Thus, the text very much does what it sets out do.

The only question I have is of the structure of the book, I wonder if using the reformed, three uses of the law-works to further the thesis of the text or does it end up subverting all of it to the reformed, systematic order. Does the structure do what the text does so well? I may have decided on a daring two uses while allowing the end to be that “new” terrain undefined by a this or that use of a law or defined by both given the demand and the situation. Even with that question, the point is taken well. Under the goodness of method conceived so creatively holding on loosely to what was and what will be, I can return to method in a new way with a new relationship without fear and condemnation, using it as a well decorated teacher.

Meditation, Anti-Racism and Revolution

In this video I discuss two books I recently read and am impacted by. The first book is, “This Book is Anti-Racist: 20 Lessons on how to Wake Up, Take Action, and Do the Work” by Tiffany Jewell. And the second book is, “Stay Woke: A Meditation Guide for the Rest of Us” by Justin Michael Williams. These two excellent books intersect and work concurrently with each other as it pertains to our presence in a world in need of awake and alert people fighting for a better world for all people. I highly recommend both books to your shopping cart and minds and lives.

Here are the two episodes of Layla Saad’s podcast, The Good Ancestor Podcast, where she interviews both Tiffany Jewell and Justin Michael Williams.

http://laylafsaad.com/good-ancestor-podcast/ep030-tiffany-jewell

http://laylafsaad.com/good-ancestor-podcast/ep024-justin-michael-williams