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Friends United
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March/April 2009
The Friends
Pastor:
A Different Animal
By Phil Baisley
One of the strangest animals encountered by Dr. Doolittle, in the children’s stories by Hugh Lofting, is the “pushme-pullyu.” Lofting described it as a kind of antelope. In the 1967 movie it was a llama. Both point out its most unique quality: two heads, one at each end of its body. Whether antelope or llama, the pushme-pullyu was a different animal.
I’ve been connected to the Society of Friends for nearly 25 years, spending some time with unprogrammed Friends, but mostly among Friends of the programmed, or pastoral, variety. I’ve known dozens of Friends pastors and am one myself, and I’ve come to one conclusion: the Quaker pastor is a different animal. I don’t mean she or he has two heads (although anyone serving as a pastor to a religious group opposed in principle to professional pastors might tend to be pulled in two or more directions). But Quaker pastors are not like other pastors.
One thing different about Friends pastors is the recognition that their prepared sermon may not be the one God intended the meeting to hear that day. Although I’ve had that happen a few times over the years, the most memorable was when “Bart” asked if he could speak.
Bart was not his real name, but if you know Bart Simpson then you can imagine what this boy was like at age 10. He was not the pride and joy of the Northeastern school district, and when he attended meeting many Friends kept a suspicious eye on him. One Sunday, just before worship, Bart asked if he could say a few words during the service. Multiple scenarios flashed through my mind — none of them good — as I considered what it would mean to allow Bart access to the pulpit and a microphone. But I was a Friends pastor and this was a meeting under the direction of the Spirit, not of me. I told Bart to sit in the first row (he usually did anyway) and I would call on him during the meeting.
After the usual announcements, greetings, call to worship and hymns, I told the congregation that Bart had asked to speak. Looks of horror passed across many of their faces. Bart stepped up to the lectern and told the meeting how the lesson he heard in Sunday school had touched his life. He spoke for about three minutes to a hushed audience. When he finished, I said, “I think we’ve heard God’s message for today.” We then entered a time of silence and open worship. We all knew God was with us that day.
While guest speakers are not uncommon in any church or denomination, it is hard to imagine Bart being handed the preaching responsibility anywhere else. The expectation that the message of the morning could come from anywhere and anyone is something unique to the Quaker pastor.
Another difference can be found in pastoral prayers — you know, the “official” ones that really mean business. Pastoral prayers are usually the domain of, well, the pastor. But Friends pastors know they are not the only ones with a direct link to God. I learned this firsthand the day William prayed.
William is one of eight persons with mental retardation who attend Williamsburg Friends regularly. Up until the time this story happened, his most profound statement in worship had been, “I’ve gotta go pee.” Then there came a day when a former pastoral intern returned to Williamsburg for a visit. He was in town for a conference and informed me he’d been having a difficult time in his first pastorate. I invited him back to Williamsburg and told him we’d have the members of the Ministry and Oversight (M&O) Committee lay hands on him and pray.
When the time came, I asked the former intern to come forward and M&O to place their hands on him. As the M&O members came forward, William got up from his front row seat and joined them, saying, “Can I put my hands on his head, too?” This is where Friends’ testimony on equality either means something or it doesn’t. I said, “Sure, William.”
The instant William’s hand touched the man’s head William began praying the most beautiful, articulate prayer I’d ever heard. When he was finished you could have heard a pin drop in the meetinghouse. Once again, we knew God was present with us.
I have many more stories, from Indiana to Kenya, but I’ll stop here. I think you get the idea. The Friends pastor is a different animal because we, along with all Friends, believe God is real, alive and constantly moving among us, speaking to us and through us. Our “job” is usually discerning when to get out of the way.
Phil Baisley is in his 11th year of pastoring Williamsburg Friends Meeting (Indiana) and his 10th year of teaching pastoral ministry at the Earlham School of Religion. In addition to preaching and teaching, Phil finds time for involvement with the Richmond Civic Theatre and performing his original songs (as GrandpaJoe) at venues in and around Richmond.