For those of you expecting my thoughts on Ramsay's Customer Rules #3 and #4 this weekend, my apologies for my absence. Being the end of Holy Week and beginning of Easter I have been rather...preoccupied of late. I will continue my ruminations this coming week.
I have learned a lot thinking about these restaurant rules and how they apply to ministry and leadership in a congregation, and I'm eager to share them. Stay tuned.
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![]() Buzz. Gordon Ramsay’s second customer rule is this: Create an organization with buzz. Involve your customers. If a restaurant is to succeed, it must be the talk of the town, the place to see and be seen, the social and culinary highlight of any customer’s week. And customers can’t help but spread the word. Church is all about buzz. The good news is just buzz—buzz about the kingdom of God come today. Sure, Jesus called people to follow him, but he also sent them out to the ends of the earth to spread the word about the reign of God. That’s the literal meaning of the word apostle—to be sent out. And don’t forget that just fifty days after Jesus’ death and resurrection, his first disciples were set on fire by the holy Spirit—they were so buzzed that onlookers reportedly attributed it to drinking too much Manischewitz. Read it for yourself in Acts 2. Being a Christian…being a church…is not a passive recreational activity. It is active, lively, passionate, buzzy. How do we make our congregations buzzing with the good news? The answer is simple—we involve our people. We involve our people in worship. Liturgy literally means ‘work of the people’. Are people at our services participants or spectators? Are they actively engaged and engaging in worship, or are they following along in the book and mumbling monotone responses in bold print? When we look out at our congregation during worship, are the people looking down at their bulletins or are they looking right back at us? And what about preaching? There was a time when I would preach behind a solid, wooden pulpit, standing on a little platform. I would read my sermon dramatically, making appropriate eye-contact with the congregation as I worked my way down my carefully composed manuscript…a manuscript printed in double-spaced, 12 point, Times New Roman font (complete with one inch margins). I was careful, scholarly, and sometimes even interesting. But I wasn't engaging the people. I had to change. So, I shed the manuscript. Oh, I spent as much if not more time preparing my sermons because now they had to be delivered without a parachute. But the freedom was rewarding. I could engage my people—ask them questions and listen to their answers, bring them on a journey, use them as props and sermon illustrations, and so on. People had permission to listen, to laugh, to object, to puzzle, even to derail a sermon. Now, more than ever, I believe my preaching can buzz. But buzz is more than Sunday morning gatherings. We have to honestly ask ourselves how involved our people are in doing the ministry of the church. Try this: the next time you have a church committee or team meeting, look around you. If I’m honest, I see the same faces I see on most other committees. The same 10 or 20 percent actively engage while 80 to 90 percent watch and wait and maybe even avoid. That’s not buzz…that’s burnout. We can only challenge this 20/80 rule by reaching out and getting more people involved. How well do you know your people, and how well do they know each other? Do you know what people do for a living? What are their hobbies? Where do they like to hang out? How do they unwind, have fun, and socialize with friends? What gifts and talents have they been blessed with by the holy Spirit that energize them, motivate them, send them buzzing? If our people aren't engaged, they won’t be involved; if they aren't involved, they won’t buzz. And church is all about buzz. If a congregation is to succeed, it must be the talk of the town, the place to see and be seen, the social and religious highlight of any person’s week. And people can’t help but spread the word. Create a congregation with buzz. Involve your people. ![]() The first of Gordon Ramsay’s Seven Customer Rules is obvious: Use the best ingredients. That includes people. A restaurant will be a success only if it uses fresh, local produce and protein, and prepares and serves that delicious food with skilled, passionate chefs and wait staff. It’s that simple. Let us suppose the first rule of leading a congregation is the same: Use the best ingredients. That includes people. Ingredients: The message—what message are we feeding our people? Are we feeding cheap grace, prosperity gospel, safe and warm-fuzzy messages that are inoffensive, dispassionate, or uninspiring? I’ve heard colleagues in ministry bemuse that if we truly preached the message—as Jesus would intend—we’d have to wear a helmet and Kevlar. I find this anecdote shocking because it exposes cowardice as preachers and our lack of passion, and our disregard for what we are called to do; namely, speak the truth. Use the best, the freshest, the most honest ingredients in your message. We can’t feed our people cheap, processed, sugary foods. We must nourish them, educate their ‘palates’, and stimulate their senses and their God sense. And you have to be passionate about the message, because if you aren’t, our people won’t be either. Take risks, don’t be afraid, and if you have to, wear a damn helmet. The context—does the environment support our message? Is it cold and uninviting? Is it warm and welcoming? Is it functional, or friendly, uncluttered and clean? Does it show that the people who gather there care about what happens there? The worship—do the worship services convey the work of the people? After all, liturgy literally means ‘work of the people’. Is it simple, sincere and dignified? Is it easy to follow? Would a person who had never stepped foot in congregation be able to follow along and not feel left out, lost, or unwelcome? Is it too expensive—too hoity-toity, out of reach and out of touch? Is it too cheap—lazy and messy, and lacking passion? The formation—do we educate our people’s palates? What programs do we use to teach our children, our teens, adults and seniors about the story of God’s people? Even better, how do we teach our people to follow the way of Jesus? Do we just give pithy messages about justification, grace, law and gospel…or do we actually teach and show people how to really live? Beyond the doors—the best advertising is word of mouth. Is what we are about so life changing, so incredible, so amazing that people can’t help but share with others? Think about the last time you had a great meal at a new restaurant…did you recommend it to others? When someone asks, ‘Where’s a good place to eat around here,’ don’t you have an answer ready? And what about a bad restaurant experience? If food is nasty and service terrible, word gets around fast. Is what we are serving in our congregations creating buzz? People—do we use the best people? Do we use the best IN people? Do we demand the best in ourselves and others? I have to admit that as a pastor, I am often gun-shy about confronting mediocrity because I’m afraid to offend or hurt feelings or anger someone. God knows if I piss someone off it will come back to bite me…hard. But I have to remind myself that just because Jesus didn't call the best and brightest and richest and most qualified doesn't mean he didn't expect the best from them. He expected from his disciples total commitment—100%. As leaders of a congregation we do not respect our people or God if we settle for less. If I am afraid to offend, then I can’t be a pastor. At least, not a good one. And if I’m going to live by this first rule, I've got to use the best in myself. A congregation will be a success only if its message is honest, relevant, passionate, and fearless; proclaimed and lived by people who are just as honest, passionate, and unafraid to follow Jesus. It’s that simple. Use the best ingredients. That includes people. Amen. ![]() Today, I’m abandoning the Holmesian schtick for my blog. I guess there are finally a few things on my mind that I can’t weave into a cute mystery solve. The detective will doubtless return now and then, but for now I want to share some thoughts of my own without the deerstalker and pipe. Here goes… I’m a fan of Gordon Ramsay, the Scottish Michelin starred celebrity chef who peppers his language with the occasional F-bomb. I enjoy his cooking, his gimmick, and his personality. Love him or not, he’s a savvy business man and one hell of a chef. He is passionate about food and passionate about making his diners experience the best cuisine possible. One day I was browsing the web and reading news of the Chef when I stumbled across what was described as Gordon Ramsay’s Seven Customer Rules. While I couldn’t verify truly if they are directly from Ramsay, I was nevertheless astonished by what I discovered—how much these seven rules seemed to apply to me as a pastor of a small mainline congregation. I know I am not the first pastor to find helpful insights from the world of secular hospitality and customer service. And I know that to be a Christian leader is to serve, yes? ‘The greatest among you must become like the youngest,’ says Jesus, ‘and the leader like one who serves.’ Fundamentally, in practice, I am in the service business. I serve God and I serve my neighbor. I don’t have a product to sell, and whatever people get from me I give away for free. So, what can I learn about how to be the church…how to lead the church…from a restaurant? The most common metaphor for the kingdom of God is a sumptuous feast. What can a foul-mouthed celebrity chef who slams about Hell’s Kitchen teach me about leading a community of faith? A lot, I imagine. For the next seven days, I am going to reflect on each of Gordon Ramsay’s Seven Customer Rules and how they may or may not inform me about how to lead a congregation better. Don’t worry. I’ll keep my language clean. ![]() My dear Watson, I confess I find your recent interest in numerology quite amusing, especially as regards astrological predictions of one’s fortunes or future. As a pastime I can see little harm, though I often wonder at how so many people come to depend on stars and numbers and astronomical signs to show them their way. That said, numerology not necessarily a whimsical little diversion, but might in fact give us some insight into the divine. I know my departure from the material and scientific might take you by surprise, but I cannot deny that numbers play an important role in a faithful life. Consider the forty days of Lent—that period of fasting, prayer and preparation for the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection at Easter—forty days to coincide with Jesus’ own vision quest in the wilderness that culminated in his triumph over the tempter’s tests. That the ministry of the messiah might begin with forty days of fasting should come as no surprise, for there are so many echoes of the number in Hebrew scripture. The Lord God flooded the earth for forty days and nights, and Noah and his crew waited another forty days to open the windows of the ark. After deliverance from slavery, the Israelites wandered the Sinai desert for forty years. Each time Moses communed with the Lord God on the holy mountain, he lingered forty days. The Israelite spies scouted out the land of promise for forty days. Goliath, the Philistine champion, challenged the Israelites for forty days before losing his head to David. Elijah was sustained by one meal for his forty-day trek with God on the holy mountain. And the Jonah gave wicked Nineveh forty days to repent…and they did. What each of these periods of forty has in common is a time of testing, challenging, repenting, renewing, connecting or reconnecting with God. That Jesus would fast forty days and be tested should come as no surprise. Forty is a holy number of fasting—of self denial and connection to the divine. The forty days of Lent mark out a holy time with a holy number in preparation for a holy day. And after that day, the resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples to challenge and connect with them for…you guessed correctly…forty days. If there is such a thing as a holy number, then forty is a holy number indeed. I remain, as ever, sincerely yours, S.H. They do all their deeds to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. (Matthew23v5) ![]() My dear Watson, As spring approaches, so too does the season of Lent—those forty days of fasting and reflection during which people of faith are called upon to prepare their hearts and minds for the horrors of Holy Week, and the joyous good news of Easter. Next week there shall be innumerable people going about with ashen crosses marked on their foreheads, pious signs of mortality and self-denial to mark the start of a holy Lent. And yet, there is a dramatic contradiction with this practice and the admonitions of Jesus himself, who warned against showy acts of piety. And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. (Matthew 6v16). Indeed, this is the very appointed text to read at the Ash Wednesday service! Many a worshipper wonders when to wash off the cross marked on the forehead, if ever. The contradiction is made more apparent by the rising trend of young and adventurous pastors taking the branding practice to the streets—smearing ashen crosses at public places such as coffee houses, supermarkets, commuter stations and post offices. See for example: http://www.ministrymatters.com/worship/article/entry/3566/taking-ash-wednesday-public?utm_source=NES+News+for+January+30th%2C+2013&utm_campaign=Jan+%2C+30%2C+2013&utm_medium=email#axzz2K2NqIemf In some ways, I find this idea of taking Ash Wednesday public to be attractive—a way of crossing barriers that keep people away from faith, worship, and community. In other ways, I wonder if such a practice is altogether a wise idea given the potent symbolism behind the ashen cross. As Mr. McLuhan has taught us, the media is the message. Remember you dust, and to dust you shall return. The cross of ashes is a morbid reminder of our mortality—our rebellion against God and our futile sin of self sufficiency and independence. Despite all our good deeds and intentions, our vitamins and gym memberships, our Botox and vaccinations, we all will die. The good news, of course, is the promise of resurrection, new life and abundance in Jesus’ victory over death. But this promise is buried in the harsh symbolism of the ashes and cross. A tomb indeed. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Matthew 6.17-18) Perhaps the most genuine show of Lenten piety on Ash Wednesday would be to take a different symbol public—and wear it everywhere one goes: a smile. A smile is human and divine, attractive and contagious, and does more to spread the good news of faith, hope and love than any ashes. I remain sincerely yours, S.H. ![]() Dear Mr. Jacobson, Our mutual friend Watson delivered to me your recent inquiry into mysteries Messianic. As an amateur genealogist, you pointed out that the genealogy of Jesus found in Matthew 1 describes Joseph as a descendant of David. However, you ask if Jesus would be considered a ‘son of David’ since Joseph was not his…biological…father? Of course, the genealogy is Mathew’s way of validating the Davidic pedigree of Jesus, as popular apocalyptic sentiment in first century Judea was that God's messiah would be a priestly king type who would restore the Davidic throne in Jerusalem (see Isaiah 11). So it's important that if Jesus is the messiah he must be of Davidic heritage (also, it helps to be from David's hometown Bethlehem; as in Micah 5). But pay attention to trifles! Notice that Matthew is doing something else here. He mentions several women in the lineage (Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, and Mary the mother of Jesus). Tamar was the widow of Judah's son, who deceives Judah into taking her into his household by disguising herself as a prostitute and conceiving a child with him (Genesis 38). Rahab was a prostitute who led the Israelite spies into Jericho to do recon work (Joshua 2). Ruth was a foreign (Gentile) widow who marries a wealthy Hebrew (Ruth). Bathsheba slept with King David while her husband Uriah fought in a war (jury is out whether she consented); David had her husband put on the front lines to be killed in order to hide the child he conceived with her (2 Samuel 11). Why would Matthew go to such pains to mention these women of...questionable reputation? But then the last woman mentioned is Mary, who conceives a child out of wedlock and her betrothed isn't the father. Quite the scandal, one might imagine. Clearly, what is on everyone's mind in Matthew's community is not just Jesus' Davidic pedigree, but also his status as an illegitimate son (a "mamzer" or bastard). Indeed, some of the earliest anti-Christian propaganda focused on the circumstances of Jesus' illegitimacy; some attacks included accusations that his real father was Roman centurion named "the Panther"! What legitimizes Jesus in the eyes of his hometown is Joseph's willingness to claim Jesus as his son—to adopt him, circumcise him and name him. In doing this, Joseph bestows upon Jesus his own Davidic pedigree, and quashes any questions about his legitimacy. Mathew’s genealogy is relevant to this day: 1. In reading the questionable women in Jesus’ genealogy, we are reminded that one does not have to be perfect to be an important, influential, and integral part of God’s kingdom. 2. Reputation is immaterial. That Jesus was accused (and to an extent rightly so) of being a mamzer, only heightens his solidarity with the marginal, outcast, and misfit. Pedigree, distinction and class are irrelevant to the kingdom. 3. Just as Jesus was legitimated in his adoption by Joseph, so are we made legitimate in our adoption as children of God. As the Apostle once wrote, we have received a spirit of adoption and cry Abba, Father! In other words, the father of Jesus is our Father, too. And there, my dear Jacobson, lies the crux of the matter. Sincerely Yours, S.H. ![]() My dear Watson, I have given some thought to your query about your Club’s habit of smashing your port glasses into the fire after your weekly toast—the old fireplace toss as you put it—and if it had any relation to the Jewish custom of smashing a goblet during a wedding ceremony. This tradition, though derived from late antiquity, will not be found in scripture. Some believe it began when a rabbi smashed a glass at a festive wedding to remind those attending that despite their joy they should remember the fall of Jerusalem and the holy temple. Today, most Jewish couples regard the smashing ritual as a symbolic reminder that even in the happiest occasions there is tragedy, and life is filled with both joy and sorrow. The shards remind all in attendance that God calls everyone to repair the world--tikkun olam. I am reminded of the story of Jesus’ first miracle at a wedding feast in Cana, during which the party had run out wine. At the behest of his mother, Jesus ordered several large jars used for ritual purposes to be filled with water (180 gallons worth). The toastmaster of the wedding discovered that they were in fact filled with fine wine, and congratulated the bridegroom with his prodigious generosity. Had they shattered a glass, Jesus doubtless would have restored it whole. I am struck that what Jesus does is to take apparent tragedy (running out of wine was beyond inhospitality and social faux pas) and transform it into something miraculous, beautiful, and filled with joy. Isn’t that what Jesus does in all things? He sets the prisoner free, he heals the leper, he exorcizes the possessed, he makes the blind to see and the crippled to walk, and he even raises the dead to life. The old fireplace toss might be a way to seal a toast among clubbable friends, but the shattered glass at a wedding is nothing less that water turned to wine. And that, my dear Watson, is something worth toasting. I remain sincerely yours, S.H. Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." (Luke 3.21-22 NRSV) My dear Watson,
The question you posed last night over a glass of port is a worthy one: Why would Jesus, if he was truly the Son of God (and therefore lacking any original or actual sin) submit to John’s baptism in the Jordan? You are quite correct that the critical historian would surmise that Jesus was a disciple of John and would have naturally submitted to his baptism and teaching, only beginning his own ministry of preaching and healing after John was arrested and the Jordan program had failed. Jesus’ message of nonviolent, inclusive, and collaborative participation in the kingdom of God would naturally contrast with John’s violent, apocalyptic visions. But, why does it matter to a person of faith that Jesus was baptized? As you know, Jesus’ baptism has always been a point of embarrassment for the church. In the gospel of Mark, Jesus appears at the Jordan, is baptized, receives the holy Spirit and is driven into the wilderness without delay. But by the time Matthew has written his gospel, we find John refusing to baptize Jesus and asserting that it is he (!) who must be baptized. Jesus insists this must be so to fulfill all righteousness. In Luke’s narrative, John’s arrest and imprisonment are mentioned before Jesus even appears at the river, and the baptismal scene is described passively without John’s explicit presence. In the gospel of John, Jesus isn’t even baptized. One can discern a distancing between Jesus and John the baptizer in the eyes of the early church. Perhaps the answer as to the relevance of the matter lies in the theophany that occurs as Jesus rises from the water—the heavens rip open, the spirit descends as a dove, and a voice declares Jesus God’s beloved son, in whom God is well pleased. This moment is more than a theophany: it is the intersection of the corporeal and the divine. The incarnate Jesus is revealed to be both truly human (submitting to baptism) and truly divine (God’s son). At this moment, at least, heaven and earth become one. If we take the incarnation seriously, that Jesus was indeed truly human, we find the relevance all the more apparent. For when we fragile, fallen, and fleshly humans are baptized, the heavens rip open, the spirit descends as a dove, and a voice declares that we are God’s beloved children, in whom God is well pleased. Baptism is many things: a symbolic washing of sin, a means of God’s grace, a death and resurrection, an initiation into the community of God. But we must also remember that God’s declaration, when applied to Jesus the man at this baptism, also applies to us. You too are God’s child—beloved and well pleasing. Perhaps that is why Jesus was baptized. I remain sincerely yours, S.H. ![]() My dear Watson, I have at last taken up the pen (or keyboard, as it may be) to follow your suggestion and begin to share online my reflections on life, faith, and the mysteries of the kingdom. I can only assure you, and any other readers of these posts, that my intention is merely to begin more conversations than I end, to ask more questions than I answer, and to explore ways of being a person of faith in the 21st century. My approach will be unashamedly Christian, if by Christian you mean as a follower of Jesus of Nazareth. But I doubt all my reflections will pass the litmus test of orthodoxy if too heavily applied, for as a rule I never fail to neglect my heresies. Jesus Christ was, after all, a heretic. I remain sincerely yours, S.H. |
AuthorScott Howard is the pastor of Triumphant Cross Lutheran in Salem, New Hampshire. HomeArchives
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