NO IMAGE HAS INFLUENCED the practice of pastoral care more than its chief formative metaphor, the good shepherd caring for the vulnerable flock amid a perilous world. This central matrix of imagery has served as the foundation for other images of the pastor—guardian of tradition, guide through hazard, and physician of the flock. It is only on the basis of this axial metaphor that the pastor can reflect rightly upon due authorization to ministry and upon diakonia. It constitutes an important link in the correlation of Christ’s shepherding with contemporary shepherding.

I. THE SHEPHERD OF SOULS

The shepherding metaphor reveals the care-giver in the role of a steady companion and patient guide of the soul, who constantly provides healthy nourishment for the soul. It is a consoling and refreshing image that combines and integrates diverse elements: nurture, wholesome feeding, leading, protecting and guarding the flock at rest. Origen painted the metaphor beautifully in his commentary on the Song of Songs, where the Chief Shepherd was understood as Christ himself:

The Good Shepherd makes it His business to seek for the best pastures for His sheep, and to find green and shady groves where they may rest during the noonday heat.… “He makes me lie down in green pastures, and leads me beside the waters of peace” (Ps. 23:2), thus making it clear that this Shepherd provides His sheep with water that is not only plentiful, but also wholesome and pure and utterly refreshing. (Origen, The Song of Songs, Bk. 2, ACW 26, pp. 122–123, NEB

The metaphor functions intricately at several levels. The shepherd does not care for every member of the flock in precisely the same way:

Keep an eye out for all parts of your flock, lest any one stumble by your negligence, and thereby perish. For the layman watches out only for himself, but you watch out for all. You carry a burden for all, a heavier load. For it is written: “The Lord said to Aaron, ‘You, your sons and your father’s family are to bear the responsibility for offenses against the sanctuary, and you and your sons alone are to bear the responsibility for offenses against the priesthood’ ”(Num. 18:1, 2). Since you are called to give an account of each one of the flock, take care of each one. Preserve those that are sound, warn those that fall. When you have assigned them fasting, give them ease by remission. When with tears the offender begs readmission, receive him, and let the whole Church pray for him. When by imposition of your hand you have admitted him, permit him to remain afterwards in the flock. But for the drowsy and the careless, endeavour to convert and confirm, to warn and cure. (Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Bk. II, Ch. XVIII, Sec. III, ANF VII, p. 403–404, NIV

The flexibility of the shepherding metaphor permits it to become imaginatively mixed and interwoven with other emergency metaphors and helping images, such as pilot or firefighter, as in Cyprian’s letter to Pomponius:

The Lord speaks and says: “And I will appoint over you shepherds after my own heart, who will shepherd you with instruction.” (Cf. Jer. 3.15).… The ship must vigilantly be delivered from dangerous places lest it be broken among the cliffs and rocks. The bundle must be drawn out quickly from the fire before it is burned up by the oncoming flames. No one close to danger is safe for a long time. Nor will the servant of God who has entangled himself in the snares of the enemy be able to escape.… Therefore, dearly beloved Brother, take heed that the undisciplined be not consumed and perish, that you rule the brotherhood as far as possible with salutary counsels, and that you counsel each one for his salvation. Steep and narrow is the way through which we enter into life. (Cyprian, Letters, 4, sec. 2, 5, FC 51, pp. 11, 14; cf. ANF V, p. 357f)*

The shepherd is fully responsible for guiding the flock to good pastures. If the flock is negligently exposed to hazardous situations, the shepherd is fully accountable. Schismatic teachers seek to divide the flock:

As children of the light (Eph. 5:8) of truth, flee from division and wrong teaching. Wherever the shepherd goes, follow there as his sheep (John 10:10–12). For there are many specious wolves who by evil design take captive those who are seeking after God.… If anyone follows a maker of schism he “will not inherit the kingdom of God” (1 Cor. 6:9, 10). (Ignatius of Antioch, To the Philadelphians, sec. 2–3, AF, pp. 104–105)*

The shepherd, in the ancient metaphor, was also a veterinarian, providing physical remedies for the ailments and sicknesses of the flock, and protecting each one from the risk of illness. Although pastoral writers employed this dimension of the metaphor, the analogy was admittedly imprecise, as Chrysostom revealed, because human beings cannot be treated like sheep. The shepherd’s doctoring of sheep is different than the pastor’s spiritual remedies amid personal crises:

Shepherds have full power to compel the sheep to accept the treatment if they do not submit of their own accord. It is easy to bind them when it is necessary to use cautery or the knife, and to keep them shut up for a long time when that is the right thing, and to introduce different kinds of food one after another, and to keep them away from water. And all other remedies the shepherds think will promote the animals’ health they apply with perfect ease.

But human diseases in the first place are not easy for a man to see. “For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the man’s spirit within him?” (1 Cor. 2:11). How, then, can anyone provide the specific remedy for a disease if he does not know its character and often cannot tell whether the person is even ill? When it later becomes apparent, then it has become all the more intractable. You cannot treat human beings with the same authority with which the shepherd treats a sheep. Here too it is possible to bind and to forbid food and to apply cautery and the knife, but the decision to receive treatment does not lie with the one who administers the medicine but actually with the patient. (John Chrysostom, On the Priesthood, Ch. II, sec. 2, pp. 55–56)*

The tradition was aware of the limits of its lead metaphor—shepherd of souls—since people are not really sheep. The sheep doctor binds and coerces. The soul doctor has only the power of persuasion, not coercion. The metaphor best functions with an awareness of its limits.

II. ACCOUNTABILITY OF THE SHEPHERD

The shepherd metaphor conflates several helping images: birthing, nurturing, feeding, guiding, and healing. In all of these it connotes radical responsibility for others. The assumption underlying this care is that the shepherd is finally accountable to God for whatever level of accountability he is specifically charged in ministry to others. The pastoral writers reflected deeply upon the unusual extent to which pastors are responsible for others:

As you pipe, so they dance; as you teach, so they believe; as you proceed, so they follow. Therefore, woe unto you if you teach erroneously; if you destroy and do not gather; if you deceive and do not shepherd; if you corrupt and do not convert! Receive eyes of wisdom, that you may rightly teach and lead others. (Menno Simons, Brief and Clear Confession, 1544, CWMS, p. 453)

Unlike other professionals who can flee when danger comes, soul care is committed to sharing the danger of those in its charge. One cannot walk away from the flock, particularly during a moment under attack. One of the most critical questions that pastoral writers had to decide in the earliest centuries of Christianity was to what extent it is conscienable for a pastor to abandon a flock when danger comes. This became an urgent, practical question of soul care during the years of persecution through which Tertullian lived. He was among a group of pastoral writers that took a rigorous view against “flight in time of persecution”:

When those in authority—I mean deacons, priests, and bishops—take flight, how is the mere layman to understand the sense in which it was said: “Flee from city to city?” When the leaders run away, who of the common crowd can hope to persuade anyone to stand firm in battle? Without a doubt, the good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.… He is a wicked shepherd who flees when he sees the wolf and leaves the flock to be devoured.… And against them Ezechiel and Jeremias thunder with similar recriminations, in that they have not merely depended upon their sheep and fattened themselves, but they have themselves dispersed the flock and, without a leader to guide them, left them the prey to all the beasts of the field. (Cf. Ezech. 34.2 Jer. 23.1ff). For, this is what happens when the church is deserted by the clergy in time of persecution.… Those who have been given charge over the Church cannot flee in time of persecution. If however, the flock were obliged to flee, then the shepherd would not be obliged to stand his ground. In that case, there would be no reason for him to stay “to protect his flock,” since, as a matter of fact, they would have no need of protection, as a result of their liberty, of course, to flee. (Tertullian, Flight in Time of Persecution, Ch. 11, secs. 1–3, FC 40, pp. 296–298)*

The analogy is basically misconceived if one imagines that the shepherd is responsible only to the flock. Rather the shepherd is responsible to God for the flock. Chrysostom concluded that the most hazardous test of pastoral service is the divine assessment at the last judgment when one is called to account for one’s care of the flock. The historical risks that may be encountered with predators or thugs are nothing by comparison. The shepherding metaphor is best kept in this eschatological frame of reference in order to see its compelling force:

A man who loses sheep through the ravages of wolves or the attacks of robbers or through pestilence or some other accident, might perhaps meet with a measure of pardon from the owner of the flock. Even if he is called upon to pay compensation, the penalty stops at money. But anyone entrusted with human beings, the rational souls of the flock of Christ, risks a penalty not of money but of his own soul for the loss of the sheep. Moreover, he has a far greater and more difficult struggle. His fight is not with wolves; his fear is not of robbers; his care is not to protect the flock from pestilence. Well then, against whom is the war? With whom is the battle? Listen to St. Paul. He says, “Our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against powers” (Eph. 6:12). (John Chrysostom, On the Priesthood, Ch. II, sec. 2, p. 54)*

The Apostolic Constitutions, compiled in the fourth century from previous strands of oral and written tradition, summarized the accountability of the pastoral shepherd with and for the laity. Lay persons are rationally accountable, and cannot blame the shepherd for disaster if warnings and guidance have been rightly given:

God says to the shepherds: “Ye shall be judged for your unskilfulness, and for destroying the sheep” (Ezek. 34:2). That implies that God will judge not only between one bishop and another, and between one guide and another, but also between one lay person and another, for each has some level of responsibility. For the sheep of whom we speak are none of them irrational animals, but rational creatures. This is said in order to prevent persons from later on saying, “I am just a sheep, not a shepherd. I have no concerns beyond myself. Let the shepherd be vigilant, for he alone will be required to give an account for me.” For any sheep that will not follow a good shepherd will be exposed to wolves and to destruction. Likewise, any sheep who follow a bad shepherd will also be exposed to unavoidable death, since his shepherd will devour him. Care must be taken to avoid destructive shepherds. (Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Bk. II, Ch. XX, sec. Ill, ANF VII, pp. 404–405)*

In Augustine’s letter to his friend Alypius, bishop of Tagaste, we have a case study of a pastoral crisis with an unruly congregation. The episode revealed the seriousness of Augustine’s view of the accountability of the shepherd, and of the danger to the congregation that refused to follow. The situation: In the year 395 A.D., Augustine had been preaching on a special occasion in Hippo, the anniversary of the birth of Leontius. Over a period of several days during this festive occasion, the crowd had become drunk and disorderly, threatening to mar the worship services. His letter to Alypius picks up the story:

Some were becoming openly violent, and declaring that they could not submit to the prohibition (intimated while you were here) of that feast which they call Laetitia, vainly attempting to disguise ther revels under a fair name. It happened most opportunely for me, by the hidden foreordination of the Almighty God, that on the fourth holy day that chapter of the Gospel fell to be expounded in ordinary course, in which the words occur: “Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine” (Matt. 7:6). I discoursed therefore concerning dogs and swine in such a way as to compel those who clamour with obstinate barking against the divine precepts, and who are given up to the abominations of carnal pleasures, to blush for shame.… When, however, this discourse was, according to the ability and zeal of each, made known abroad by those who had heard it, it found many opponents. But when the morning of Quadragesima came round, and a great multitude had assembled at the hour of exposition of Scripture, that passage in the Gospel was read in which our Lord spoke of those sellers who were driven out of the temple.… I added to it an argument to prove with how much greater anger and vehemence our Lord would cast forth drunken revels.…

They wanted to fill the whole area of so large a place of worship, if they were permitted, with crowds of revellers and drunkards; and yet would not present to God those fruits of the Spirit which, by the authority of scripture, and by my groans, they were called to yield, and by the offering of which they would most suitably celebrate the saints’ days.

This being finished, I returned the manuscript, and being asked to speak, I set before their eyes with all my might, as the danger itself constrained me, and as the Lord was pleased to give strength, the danger shared by them who were committed to my care, and by me, who must give account to the Chief Shepherd.…

Next morning, however, when the day dawned, which so many were accustomed to devote to excess in eating and drinking, I received notice that some, even of those who were present when I preached, had not yet desisted from complaint.… I resolved that after reading in Ezekiel’s prophecy that the watchman has delivered his own soul if he has given warning, even though the persons warned refuse to give heed to him, I would shake my garments and depart. But then the Lord showed me that He leaves us not alone, and taught me how He encourages us to trust him; for before I had time to ascend to the pulpit, the very persons whose complaint.… I had heard came to me. Receiving them kindly, I by a few words brought them round to a right opinion. (Augustine, Letters, XXIX, To Alypius, A.D. 395, secs. 6–8, NPNF 1, I, p. 255)

Augustine understood himself to be responsible not merely to the congregation, but to the One who had entrusted their care to him. In this way, the pastor is responsible to God, and the congregation is responsible to the pastor. This structure of accountability cannot be treated cavalierly:

Hear what St. Paul says, or rather, not Paul but Christ who speaks in him: “Obey them that have the rule over you and submit to them; for they watch in behalf of your souls, as they that shall give account.” (Heb. 13:17). Is the fear of this threat trivial? We dare not say it is. (John Chrysostom, On the Priesthood, Ch. III, sec. 18, p. 103)

John Wyclif set forth three levels of accountability of the pastoral office—feeding, healing, and guarding:

Therefore, the first condition of the pastor is to cleanse his own spring, that it may not infect the word of God.… The pastor has a threefold office: first, to feed his sheep spiritually on the Word of God, that through pastures ever green they may be initiated into the blessedness of heaven. The second pastoral office is to purge wisely the sheep of disease, that they may not infect themselves and others as well. And the third is for the pastor to defend his sheep from ravening wolves, both sensible and insensible. (Wyclif, The Pastoral Office, Part 2, sec. 1, LCC XIV, p. 48)

The depth of this burden of responsibility makes it all the more necessary for the pastor to pray for grace and mercy in carrying out this ministry, as Luther aptly prayed:

Lord God, You have placed me in your church as overseer and pastor. You see how unfit I am to administer this great and difficult office. Had I previously been without help from you, I would have ruined everything long ago. Therefore I call upon you. I gladly offer my mouth and heart to your service. I would teach the people and I myself would continue to learn. To this end I shall meditate diligently on your Word. Use me, dear Lord, as your instrument. Only do not forsake me; for if I were to continue alone, I would quickly ruin everything. Amen. (Luther, “Lectures on Genesis, Chapters 26 to 30, 1542,” LW 5, p. 123; WLS 2, p. 926; cf. WA 43, p. 513)

III. THE NEGLIGENCE OF SHEPHERDS

When spiritual directors default on their accountability and in the duty of corrective love, not only the church but the society as well is likely to suffer systemically from this neglect. John Chrysostom thought that the abuses of ministry were unparalleled in his time, unlike some self-giving models of ministry in his recent memory:

These virtues one shall not see these days, even in teachers. They are all gone and perished. The cause: love has grown so cold that sinners go uncorrected. Hear what the Apostle says writing to Timothy: “As for those who persist in sin, rebuke them in the presence of all, so that the rest may stand in fear” (1 Tim. 5:20). This is spoken to spiritual guides who are in a sickly state. For if the head be not sound, how can the rest of the body maintain its vigor? But mark how great is the present disorder: … Plagues teeming with untold mischiefs have settled upon the Churches. Chief offices have become saleable. So numberless evils are springing up for which there is no one to redress, and no one to correct them. The disorder has even taken on a kind of systemic method and consistency.… One will have no difficulty finding persons who practise augury, who make use of charms, omens, incantations, who have committed fornication, adulterers, drunkards, and revilers—and the covetous, I am unwilling to add, lest I should hurt the feelings of any of those who are standing here. What more? Suppose any one should make scrutiny into all the communicants in the world, what kind of transgression is there which he would not detect? (John Chrysostom, Homilies on Ephesians, Hom. VI, NPNF 1, XIII, p. 8f, RSV

It is just because the pastoral office has such extraordinary potential influence, that it also is potentially subject to such great abuse. At times the level of anxiety about abuses seems extremely high and the rhetoric exaggerated by the pastoral writers, but their concern is to protect the faithful from being wantonly misled. The biblical themes recur:

God spoke in this way to Jeremiah; “Many shepherds have ravaged my vineyard and trampled down my field” (Jer. 12:10). And in another passage: “My anger is turned against the shepherds, and I will visit with punishment the leaders of the flock” (Zech. 10:3). And elsewhere Malachi spoke of “you priests who despise my name” (Mal. 1:6).… If the overseer himself is an offender, how will he be able any longer to prosecute the offense of another? (Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Bk. II, Ch. XV, sec. III, ANF VII, p. 402, NEB

Jeremiah and Ezekiel were the main biblical sources for images of the negligent shepherd:

What risks that pastor runs who is negligent in caring. Ezekiel spoke in this way to those pastors who fail to care for the people: “You shepherds, these are the words of the Lord God: How I hate the shepherds of Israel who care only for themselves! Should not the shepherd care for the sheep? You consume the milk, wear the wool, slaughter the fat beasts, but you do not feed the sheep. You have not encouraged the weary, tended the sick, bandaged the hurt, recovered the straggler, or searched for the lost.… Because my shepherds have not asked after the sheep but have cared only for themselves and not for the sheep—therefore, you shepherds, hear the words of the Lord. These are the words of the Lord God: I am against the shepherds and will demand my sheep from them. I will dismiss those shepherds” (Ezek. 34:2–10). And he also adds, speaking to the people: “I will judge between one sheep and another. You rams and he-goats! Are you not satisfied with grazing on good herbage, that you must trample down the rest with your feet?… They shall know that I, the Lord their God, am with them, and that they are my people Israel, says the Lord God. You are my flock, my people, the flock I feed” (Ezek. 34:30, 31).… As to good shepherds, let lay persons honor them, love them, revere them.… For whoever hears Christ hears through them. (Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Bk. II, Ch. XVIII, sec. III, ANF VII, p. 404, NEB

Exceptional caution has been at times required in order to determine whether a shepherd/pastor has been trustworthy. The political situation faced by Menno Simons, the founder of the sixteenth century Anabaptist movement, was analogous to underground operations during a tyrannical occupation. Amid these hazardous conditions, he was troubled that there were so few genuine shepherds available to guide the flocks, and so many pretending to be genuine. He dealt with the same themes of pastoral accountability from the prophets Ezekiel and Jeremiah:

Beloved in Christ Jesus, I am deeply troubled about you, for I hear that you hunger and thirst after righteousness and that there are so few dispensing it to men—persons who correctly cut the bread of the divine Word for their hungry consciences—so few shepherds who pasture the sheep of Christ aright; so few builders and masons to place the living stones in the temple of the Lord; so few watchmen who guard the city, the new Jerusalem, and blow the trumpet; so few fathers to beget the children of God and so few mothers to nourish these begotten ones.… Concerning the shepherds who pose as shepherds of Christ, who pasture the sheep for what they get out of it, as Ezek. 34:8 has it, pasturing themselves—you see how little they bother themselves about the sheep, whether they have pasture or not. Just so they get the wool and the milk, then they are satisfied. They pose as shepherds but they are deceivers. They are very different from the shepherds of which we read in Jeremiah, shepherds after His heart whom the Holy Spirit has sent. These other shepherds have not the love of Christ which Peter had and therefore Christ’s commandment to pasture His lambs does not apply to them. They are not commanded, that is, if they are not sent how then can they preach? As you see, they are not God-sent shepherds who lead the sheep into the green pastures of the divine Word. Instead they let them starve. They are not the shepherds who lead them to the sparkling waters, but to the muddy pools which they have prepared with their feet, that is, by their glosses and human notions. (Menno Simons, Admonition to the Amsterdam Melchiorites, c. 1545, CWMS, pp. 1021–1022)

The early pastoral writers sought to teach laity to recognize and not collude with the twisted motivations of negligent and unreliable shepherds. The major clue was their pretentiousness:

Many foolish persons entertain false teachers so great an admiration, as if they could learn from them something more precious than the truth itself! That expression of Scripture, “Seek, and ye shall find,” (Matt. 7:7) they interpret as spoken with this view, that they should discover themselves to be above the Creator, styling themselves greater and better than God. (Irenaeus, Against Heresies, Bk. II, Ch. xxx, sec. 2, ANF I, pp. 403–404)*

IV. THE ATTENTIVENESS OF THE SHEPHERD

Ministries of care at times make massive demands upon one’s time. Even under ordinary circumstances they may require exceptional emotive and physical energy. The pastoral writers have marvelled at the multiple levels of consciousness needed to perform the work of ministry well:

So the shepherd needs great wisdom and a thousand eyes to examine the soul’s condition from every angle.… The priest, therefore, must not overlook any of these considerations, but examine them all with care and apply all his remedies appropriately for fear his care should be in vain.… If a man wanders away from the right faith, the shepherd needs a lot of concentration, perseverance, and patience. He cannot drag by force or constrain by fear, but must by persuasion lead him back to the true beginning from which he has fallen away. (John Chrysostom, On the Priesthood, Ch. II, sec. 4, p. 58)

Constancy is the watchword of the shepherd. The care-giver must take in variable signals, and absorb multiple levels of information, perceptions, nuances, from all angles. Yet the practical means of influence in ministry are extremely limited and modest, consisting essentially of language and persuasion. The soul cannot be forced. Not only intensive awareness but energetic activity and intelligence is required to combat demonic forms of temptation. The Anglican martyr, Hugh Latimer (d. 1555), wrote with relish and amusement of the most diligent prelate in the country:

There is one that surpasses all others, and is the most diligent prelate and preacher in all England. And would you like to know who it is? I will tell you—it is the Devil. He is the most diligent preacher of all. He is never out of his diocese; he is never from his cure: you shall never find him unoccupied; he is ever in his parish; he keeps residence at all times; you shall never find him out of the way; call for him when you will, he is ever at home. He is the most diligent preacher in all the realm. He is forever at his plough. No lording nor loitering can hinder him. He is ever applying his business. You shall never find him idle, I warrant you. His work is to hinder religion, maintain superstition, and set up idolatry.… St. Peter said of him: “Your enemy the devil, like a roaring lion, prowls round looking for someone to devour” (1 Pet. 5:8). I would have this text well viewed and examined, every word of it: “He prowls round,” in every corner of his diocese. He goes on visitation daily. He leaves no place of his cure unvisited. He walks round about from place to place, and ceases not. “Like a lion,” that is, strongly, boldly, and proudly; stately and fiercely, with haughty looks, with his proud countenances, with his stately braggings. “Roaring”; for he does not let any occasion go by to speak or roar out when he sees he has an opportunity. “Looking for someone to devour,” and not sleeping, as our bishops do; but he seeks diligently, he searches out all corners where he might find his prey. He roves about in every place of his diocese. He does not stand still. He is never at rest, but always has his plough in hand pressing forward. There was never such a preacher in England as he is. (Hugh Latimer, “The Busy Bishop,” OCC 1, p. 54–55)*

In the fourth century, John Chrysostom had similarly treated the theme of the unceasing struggle of the Enemy for souls. The constant combat with demonic temptation is compared with a battlefield, and the vigilant shepherd as a combatant:

The duration of a battle is short and even in that short period there are many respites; the approach of night, weariness of slaughter, time taken for food, and many other things naturally bring the soldier to a standstill, and so he is able to strip off his armour, enjoy a brief respite, refresh himself with food and drink, and revive his former strength in various other ways. But when facing the Evil One you must never lay down your arms; you must never take any sleep if you want to remain for ever unhurt. You must do one of two things: either take off your armour and so fall and perish, or stand always armed and watchful. For he always stands with his forces marshalled, waiting for our moments of inadvertence, and he takes more trouble to damn our souls than we take to save them. (John Chrysostom, On the Priesthood, Ch. VI, sec. 13, pp. 158–159)

The theme of constant watchfulness is intrinsically built into the role of shepherding. There is no set quitting time for the shepherd as if a bell rang and then one were no longer in charge of the flock. Rather, even in the late evening, the shepherd will still be softly piping:

Let the shepherd cease not to play the pipe of exhortation when his sheep are grazing, and especially when they are settling down to sleep, for there is nothing which the wolf so fears as the tones of the shepherd’s pipe. (John Climacus, To the Shepherd, p. 236)

V. ACTIVE CURACY AND CONTEMPLATIVE SOLITUDE

Two strains of interpretation of full time religious vocation have developed side by side in the Christian tradition: those who withdrew from the world in monastic prayer, and those who engaged in the world in active curacies. Soul care developed differently in these two contexts: persons in religious orders submitted themselves to intensive spiritual direction under an abbot or spiritual guide, while parish congregations were under the care of the pastor. Our subject in this study is far more the latter than the former. Yet it is clear that active ministries of parish care have often owed profound debts to the monastic tradition of spiritual guidance in refining, sharpening, and experimenting with the depth dimensions of soul care.

A close reading of the classical pastoral texts will reveal the recurrent hunger of those in active pastoral ministries for a more contemplative life. Yet this is often balanced by the even stronger affirmation of the vitality, challenge, and meaningfulness of care of a parish. Human values and spiritual growth may be actualized in curacy that would have been less likely under the conditions of monastic withdrawal, and vice versa. John Chrysostom thought that the active life of parish leadership required even greater spiritual preparation than a secluded environment:

Even hermits living in the desert, far away from city and marketplace and the distractions they cause, although they continually enjoy a haven and a calm sea, are unwilling to rely on the security of that way of life, but add innumerable other safeguards, and hedge themselves in all round. They take care to be very precise in all they say and do, on purpose to be able to approach God with frankness and with spotless purity, as far as a man can do so. How much ability, then, and how much strength do you suppose the priest needs to enable him to keep his soul from every contamination and preserve its spiritual beauty unimpaired? He needs far greater purity than they do. And since he has the greater need, he is a prey to more temptations, which can defile him unless he makes his soul inaccessible to them by the practice of unremitting self-denial and strict self-discipline. (John Chrysostom, On the Priesthood, Ch. IV, sec. 1, p. 137).

Gregory the Great recognized and described well the temptation that pastors experience in their profound desire to find a quiet place:

There are some, as we have said, enriched with great gifts, who, while they are ardent for the studies of contemplation only, shrink from serving to their neighbour’s benefit by preaching; they love a secret place of quiet, they long for a retreat for speculation. With respect to which conduct, they are, if strictly judged, undoubtedly guilty in proportion to the greatness of the gifts whereby they might have been publicly useful. (Gregory the Great, BPR, Bk. I, Ch. V, NPNF 2, X, p. 4)

Ambrose affirmed both monastic and parish life. Aware of strengths and limitations in each, he reflected on their complementarity:

Who doubts that in stricter Christian devotion these two qualities are the more excellent: the duties of clerics and the customs of monks? The one is a discipline which trains for courtesy and morality, the other for abstinence and patience; the one as on an open stage, the other in secrecy; the one is observed, the other is hidden from sight.… The one life, then, is in the arena, the other in a cave; the one is opposed to the confusion of the world, the other to the desires of the flesh; the one subdues, the other flees the pleasures of the body; the one more agreeable, the other safer; the one ruling, the other reigning in self; yet each denying herself that she may be Christ’s.… The one, therefore, struggles, the other withdraws; the one overcomes enticements, the other flees them; for the one the world is a triumph, to the other a place of exile; to the one the world is crucified and itself to the world, to the other it is unknown; the one has more trials, and so a greater victory; the other falls less often, and keeps guard more easily. (Ambrose, Letters, Letters to Priests, FC 26, pp. 347–349)

In Part One we set forth qualities requisite for soul care, defined the pastoral office and principal acts of ministry, distinguished the inward from the outward call of God to pastoral service. In Part Two we have explored the shepherding metaphor that undergirds all other pastoral metaphors, the accountability of the pastor before God for the flock, the constant attentiveness that characterizes shepherding, concluding with the rhythm of prayer and service—inward nurture and outward activity—that characterizes the pastoral life. Now we turn to some of the thornier questions of proper authorization for soul care.

3 Authority for Soul Care

WHENEVER CARE OF SOULS tries to proceed without examining its proper authorization, it is prone to becoming mired in deep confusions about itself. Several issues clamour at this point: By whom and by what means is pastoral service rightly authorized? How could the servant image of ministry be consistent with the fact that pastors exercise power of a sort, and are expected to express appropriate influence, while yet remaining servants? These issues cannot be duly assessed without also asking how contemporary ministry is dependent upon apostolic ministry and historic ministries, and above all upon Jesus’ own ministry.

I. SERVANT MINISTRY

The most frequently used Greek and Latin words for ministry (diakonia and ministerium) are rooted in the notion of service. To minister is to serve. Yet the extraordinary influence of the soul guide, when functioning well, has given the office of ministry the semblance of power. Thus it has become necessary for the pastoral writers to sort out questions concerning the proper power, influence, authorization, and authority of the pastoral office in the light of its fundamental definition as service. We begin with Luther’s rigorous disclaimer that the pastoral office does not imply or carry with it any sort of temporal or coercive power:

My office, and that of every preacher and minister, does not consist in any sort of lordship but in serving all of you, so that you learn to know God, become baptized, have the true Word of God, and finally are saved. Never do I claim worldly power; princes and lords, mayors and judges, are to establish and provide for that. My office is merely a service which I am to give to everyone freely and gratuitously, nor should I seek from it either money or goods, either honor or anything else. (Luther, “Sermon on Matt. 20:24–28, 1537,” WA 47, p. 368; WLS 2, pp. 923–924)

Ministry is paradoxically thought of as a leadership role, yet one which serves by patiently facilitating the nurture and growth of the soul. Some have thought of ministry as an exalted office of legitimated spiritual power, yet these images are best grounded in the undergirding notion of ministry as service.

Catherine of Siena viewed the mystery of service paradoxically:

Oh! My beloved ones, they made themselves subjects, being prelates, they made themselves servants, being lords, they made themselves infirm, being whole and without infirmity and the leprosy of mortal sin, being strong they made themselves weak, with the foolish and simple they showed themselves simple, and with the small insignificant. And so with love they knew how to be all things to all men, and to give to each one his nourishment.… They put themselves in the midst of the thorns of tribulation, and exposed themselves to every peril with true patience, offering incense odoriferous with anxious desires, and humble and continual prayers. With tears and sweat they anointed the wounds of their neighbour. (Catherine of Siena, A Treatise of Prayer, p. 254)

When candidates for ministry nurse an idealized fantasy that they will do unusual good works in ministry, there may yet remain at unexamined levels the egocentric desire to exercise direct influence on others’ lives. Gregory asked with due gravity: How are those to be treated pastorally, who desire ordination but do not yet understand its heart as service?

But for the most part those who covet pastoral authority mentally propose to themselves some good works besides, and though desiring it with a motive of pride, still muse how they will effect great things: and so it comes to pass that the motive suppressed in the depths of the heart is one thing, another what the surface of thought presents to the muser’s mind. For the mind itself lies to itself about itself.… One can by no means learn humility in a high place who has not ceased to be proud while occupying a low one.… Wherefore from his past life let every one discover what he is.… Even an unskilful person guides a ship along a straight course in a calm sea; but in one disturbed by the waves of tempest even the skilled sailor is confounded.… What is to be held to, except that one who abounds in virtues should accede to government under compulsion, and that one who is void of virtues should not, even under compulsion, approach it? (Gregory the Great, BPR, Ch. IX, NPNF 2, X, p. 6)

II. AUTHORITY IN MINISTRY

Pastoral care is essentially a service done for the good of the soul, not a coercive office that wields temporal power, external influence, or secular authority. It is out of this assumption that the classic pastoral writers have proceeded to designate the peculiar authority given in ministry:

You are not to rule as the rulers of the nations, but as a servant ministering to them, as a father to the oppressed, visiting them as a physician, guarding them as a shepherd,—in short, taking all care for their salvation? (Clementina, Homilies, Hom. III, ANF VIII, p. 250)

It should not be assumed by this, however, that ministry thereby disavows all influence or authority or legitimation of its proper office. The Zacchaeus and Peter of the following account are imaginatively projected by an unknown Ante-Nicene writer imaginatively back upon the scriptural account (Luke 19:1ff). “Peter” is speaking:

Peter: “Of those present, whom shall I choose but Zacchaeus, to whom also the Lord went in and rested, judging him worthy to be redeemed?” Having said this, Peter laid his hand upon Zacchaeus, who stood by, and asked him to sit down in his own chair. But Zacchaeus, falling at his feet, begged that he would permit him to decline the task of spiritual guidance, promising at the same time that “Whatever the guide is required to do, I will do; only please relieve me of the burden of being called a guide. For I am afraid of assuming the name of guide since it teems with bitter envy and danger.”

Then Peter said: “If you are afraid of this, then you do not have to be known as a guide, but you are permitted simply to be called the one appointed. This was allowed by the Lord when he pronounced as blessed that one who is appointed to minister to his fellowservants (Luke 12:42). But if you wish it to be altogether unknown that you have authority of administration, you seem to me to be ignorant that the acknowledged authority of the president has great influence as regards the respect of the multitude. For every one obeys him who has received authority, having conscience as a great constraint. (Clementina, Homilies, Hom. III, ANF VIII, p. 250)*

This pseudonymous writing, attributed to Clement of Rome but probably collected in the fourth century from oral and written traditions of the second and third century, reveals how serious was the debate in early Christianity on the proper definition of pastoral authority. While paradigms like guidance or rulership do not fully grasp the essence of pastoral authority, nonetheless any attempt to disavow authority altogether is disallowed. One dare not let it remain completely unknown that one is duly authorized for the ministry of preaching, pastoral care, and sacrament. The shepherd of the Christian flock in a given parish is an honorable office whose intrinsic dignity may be properly identified and should not be surreptitiously hidden:

You shall honor the one who speaks to you the word of God. Recollect his words day and night. Revere him, not as the author of the new birth, but as one that has been made the occasion of your increased well-being. For where right teaching about God lives, there God is present. You do well to seek the presence of those who are mature in faith every day, that their words may guide you. (Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Bk. VII, sec. I, ANF VII, p. 467)*

Adequate authorization for ministry rests on a firm, explicit connection with the apostolic witness. Any individualistic appeal to the Holy Spirit that runs contrary the apostolic tradition has been viewed as suspect:

No preachers on earth have testimony that equals the apostles. All others are hereby commanded to follow in the footsteps of the apostles, to remain loyal to their teaching, and to teach nothing additional or different. And yet the true token whereby this message of the Holy Spirit is to be known and tested is also indicated here when He says: “The Holy Spirit will testify of Me” (John 15; 26). This indicates that the Spirit will preach of nothing except this Christ. (Luther, “Sermon on John 15:26–16:41,” WA 21, p. 426; WLS 1, p. 41)*

Ambrose employed a finely balanced trinitarian view to speak of proper authorization for ministry:

The Spirit gives the same things as the Father gives, as the Son also gives. Let us now receive more expressly what we touched upon above, that the Holy Spirit also enjoins the same duty as the Father and the Son, and appoints the same, for Paul said: “Keep watch over yourselves and over all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has given you charge, as shepherds of the church of the Lord” (Acts 20:28).

Therefore, oneness of authority, oneness of establishment, oneness of bestowing. For, if you separate establishment and power, what cause was there for God the Father establishing and the Holy Spirit establishing those whom Christ had established as apostles, unless, perchance, as if sharing a possession or a right they, like men, feared prejudice, and so the operation was divided, and the authority distributed? (Ambrose, “The Holy Spirit,” FC 44, p. 150–151; cf. NPNF 2, X, Bk. II, Ch. xiii, pp. 134f.)

According to most pastoral writers, some sort of ordered ministry is God’s own intention. God’s care is mediated to us by God’s own design through human hands and words, through appointed ministries. Constant direct revelation is not God’s way of communicating. One need not presumptuously expect recurrent direct revelation as if it easily could circumvent scripture, tradition, and ordered ministry:

He wants us to go and hear the Gospel from those who preach it. There and nowhere else are we to find it. The enthusiasts ignore the ministry and meanwhile sit in a corner awaiting the Holy Spirit. But they will find a nice reception! In place of the lovely Dove they will find a black raven, the devil himself. (Luther, “Sermon on Acts 9:1–22, 1534,” WA 52, p. 615; WLS 2, p. 946)

Alleged pastoral authority that ignores or circumvents the apostolic witness is suspect. As early as the second century, Irenaeus was combatting gnostic views of individualistic inspiration disconnected from the apostolic tradition as the basis for ministry:

Some allege that the truth is not delivered to them by means of written documents, but through a living voice.… But when we refer them to that tradition which originates from the apostles, and which is preserved by means of the successions of presbyters in the Churches, they object to tradition, saying that they themselves are wiser not merely than the presbyters, but even than the apostles, because they have discovered the unadulterated truth. For they maintain that the apostles intermingled the things of the law with the words of the Saviour; and that not the apostles alone, but even the Lord Himself, spoke at one time as from the Demiurge, at another from the intermediate place, and yet again from the Pleroma, but that they themselves, indubitably, unsulliedly, and purely, have knowledge of the hidden mystery.… It comes to this, therefore, that these men do now consent neither to Scripture nor to tradition. (Irenaeus, Against Heresies, Bk. III, Ch. ii, sec. 1–2, ANF I, p. 415)*

A medieval scholastic definition of authority in ministry was set forth by Jean of Paris (d. 1306). Spiritual power was understood primarily as power to give and withhold sacraments:

Since Christ intended to withdraw his physical presence from his Church it was necessary for him to institute ministers who would administer these sacraments to men. These ministers are called sacerdotes, sacred ones, because they confer sacred things, because they are leaders in the sacred order, because they teach sacred truths. In all this they are intermediaries between God and man. It was necessary then that these ministers should not be angels but men, men having a spiritual power, as the Apostle says: “For every high priest is taken from among men and appointed their representative before God” (Heb. 5:1).This was to be appropriate both with the instrument they employ (the sacraments) wherein is a spiritual power under an element of the sense-order, and also with the principal cause of the salvation of men, namely the incarnate Word, who inasmuch as he is both God and man, effects our salvation by his own power and authority. From what has been said this definition can be formulated: the priesthood is the spiritual power, given by Christ to the ministers of his church, of administering the sacraments to the faithful. (Jean de Paris, On Royal and Papal Power, Ch. 2, pp. 82–83, NEB

According to the Apostolic Constitutions, it is the purity of heart manifested by the leader and congregation sharing in Christ’s body that gives moral power and authority to ecclesial admonitions:

If the offender sees that the bishop and deacons are innocent and blameless and the flock pure, he will not venture to despise their authority.… For when he looks round the whole church one by one, and can spy no blemish either in the bishop or in the people who are under his care, he will be put to confusion, and pricked at the heart. (Constitutions of the Holy Apostles, Bk. II, sec. III, ANF VII, p. 399)*