I think I may have started to put my finger on what is not working in the Lutheran Church of Senegal and why. I know that’s a loaded statement, and I don’t mean anything patronizing about it. Things don’t function perfectly anywhere; neither am I an expert in church organization and functioning. But I’ve been thinking a lot about the disconnects I was thinking, feeling and experiencing during this last Synod. That the questions didn’t seem “right,” that the interest and lack thereof was not where I might think it to be located.
Then I realized that as this national church body was entering into arguably its third generation, even after it had experienced growth, change, and development on an organizational level, things haven’t necessarily kept pace on an intellectual or emotional level. It made me think of the congregational development work done by the Alban institute and others, studies that introduced such language as “family church,” “pastoral church,” and “program church” into the everyday vocabulary of many congregational practitioners across the ecumenical spectrum.
It seems to me that the ELS is experiencing some growing pains. That is particularly seen at the level of leadership, both lay and ordained, those most likely to be at an event such as the Synod. It’s understandable; the first generation of 10 pastors was recruited at the same time from among those who responded to missionary outreach. They did five years of bible school together, and worked closely with one another during their internship year. They were ordained together, and met regularly—monthly even—up until very recently. What’s more, they are related to one another by blood and by marriage. They are very much engaged in one another’s lives.
So asking questions like “who did so-and-so’s funeral back in May,” seems perfectly appropriate to them; it’s what one friend and colleague asks another. But asked as a question in a national church assembly (along with, “you list two baptisms, what about the Diouf boy, back in November?”) they seem not only overly detailed, but unhelpfully enmeshed or, to shift away from the pseudo-psychological talk, inappropriate for a conversation happening on that organizational level of the church. But to the pastors of that particular generation, it seems not only appropriate and helpful, but actually necessary to know the details at that level of specificity. It is as if the church—on a national or denominational level—has not quite moved from its self-conception as an extended family to that of a more programmatic organization. Not only can the newer pastors never know that level of detail and intimacy as do that first generation, it doesn’t seem to be beneficial let alone essential.
Or take another example, this one fresh from last week’s Synod. An evangelist recently transferred to another post has had some difficulties with his living situation there. And so, he came to Fatick, to the church headquarters, to speak with the president about it. The president was not able to see him, though, both because his visit was unannounced and because he came on the day that was the president’s sole day off. There was much consternation and tongue clucking about the fact that the president could not take the time to talk with one of his evangelists, one who was having a hard time in ministry and had come all that way to talk about it.
One might think that that is a natural, normal thing if the president were the leader of a handful of pastors and evangelists in a church of a few hundred or so. But he in fact at the head of an organization with over 100 employees, in a church with nearly 5000 members. Questions of self-care and boundaries aside (kudos to the president for insisting on not working on his day off!) why would an evangelist expect to be seen by the president unannounced? Because that was the system in the past (when there were 10 pastors, 2 evangelists, and a handful of literacy teachers). Because the president is still considered the direct supervisor of all 18 pastors, 6 evangelists, 3 department heads, and 12 missionaries. In a more perfect system, someone else would be the supervisor of the evangelist, someone much more accessible (and perhaps less busy!) than the president. The church is increasingly diverse, growing steadily, located in six of Senegal’s 11 administrative regions, but still thinks of itself as small, close, and familiar. Especially when it comes to its employees of long date, the church’s self-image, vocabulary, and general organization is not much in synch with what it has become. That these inconsistencies are more apparent and even obvious to newcomers—Senegalese or expatriate—is another sign that they exist. The church has moved from one level to another, but many, if not most, in the leadership don’t seem to have either realized it or don’t quite know what such a change might mean.
How does one help move a church—congregation, parish, or even denomination—from one level of understanding to another? There are whole series of books (again, mostly Alban) written about that subject, but I seem to remember that a huge hurtle to jump is simply the emotional letting go of that “family” identification. The ELS is not the church it used to be 20 years ago. Thanks be to God! But there are certain things, then, that it should probably re-think in its organization, its way of doing things, even in its language about itself. Especially as it begins to take on the huge task of reaching out beyond its historical regional nerve center and into ministry with other ethnic groups than its own, such a harmony would be immensely helpful.
Some might think that such a change will mostly be felt a loss; yes, there are certainly things that will be have to be given up. But unless the ELS is to remain an ethnic church in one small portion of the vast Senegalese landscape, it seems to me that this Church is being called to change the way it sees itself in order to better enter into God’s mission and serve the world around it.
grace and peace,
Peter
