Each of us is somebody’s predecessor—that truth helps me understand better the relationship I should have with my predecessor.
—Robert Kemper
You’d been familiar with the fine reputation of Old First Church for some time, so when Dr. Adams resigned from it you thought maybe, just maybe, this was what God had been preparing you for. Old First had been served by only three senior ministers in the last fifty years; Dr. Adams, himself, accounted for twenty of those years. He retired almost a year ago at age 67. And now you have the chance to join the procession of distinguished pastors in this great church.
After submitting your dossier, you were delighted to hear that your name came to the attention of the pastoral search committee. They thought you met their profile, so they invited you for a conversation. That led to an invitation to preach.
Soon the initiative shifted; they began wooing you. Eventually you emerged as the committee’s selection to be the next senior minister at Old First Church. What a great moment for you!
You preach your first sermon, and all goes well. You make your way to the church’s cavernous fellowship hall where a reception for you and your family awaits. As you greet your new congregation in a receiving line, you notice off to the side that a sizable and growing knot of people is forming in one corner. When you finish greeting people, you amble over. You soon see that the crowd is gathered around a distinguished-looking, gray-haired, freshly-tanned gentleman, just back from a ten-month interim pastorate in Sun City.
A member of the pastoral search committee grabs you by the arm and whisks you through the crowd. “I want you to meet Charley,” he beams. Charles Adams finishes patting a parishioner on the back and turns toward you. His big hand goes out in practiced greeting. “Hello, young man, welcome to First Church!”
This scene may be exaggerated, but in some new pastorates, we feel like the predecessor is with us from day one. He may have left physically, but his spirit sits at our desk, stands in our pulpit, and roams our halls.
This is to be expected, especially if the previous pastor had a significant ministry in the church. We all hope our ministries will continue to impact congregations after we’re gone. The predecessor becomes a problem, however, when his memory interferes with the ministry of the new pastor.
Then again, some predecessors never physically leave the parish—or they return shortly after retirement. This becomes troublesome when they continue to minister to the congregation despite their resignation. Closely related are predecessors who, although not physically present, still keep their hand in the business of the church: they still have loyalists who faithfully report to them and through whom they regularly communicate the predecessor’s will for the congregation.
Each of these manifestations of a predecessor presents a unique challenge. Each requires a unique strategy.
Dealing with the Memory
In dealing with the absent but fondly remembered pastor, I’ve found it helpful to remember four things.
• A strong memory may mean a strong future. It’s likely that a predecessor has a firm hold on the congregation’s memory because he or she maintained a solid ministry for a long time. Three times in three very different settings I followed such long-term pastors, and each time with good results.
Long pastorates usually signal that a congregation is stable and has a strong sense of identity. It also shows that a congregation has the ability to remain faithful over the long run. And that only bodes well for my ministry. So I’m happy to live with the inconvenience of a powerful congregational memory of a predecessor.
• Congregational memory is selective. When we step into a new pastorate, we’re newcomers. We know our predecessors only as they are now in the memory of the congregation, not as they were then in the presence of the congregation. Churches tend to forget thorns and remember blossoms; so parishioners often revere only part of what was—the good part. And the more the months and years pass, the more selective is the congregation’s perception of the predecessor.
It may be that Dr. Adams wore out five years ago and coasted downhill toward his long overdue retirement. It may be that he was a sloppy administrator, or perhaps he never gave attention to children and youth. But we hear only about his fine preaching or his exemplary community involvement.
If we’re not careful, we may begin competing with Dr. Adams and pursue ministries that don’t fit us, Or we may try to outdo Dr. Adams all together. But we’ll be trying to outdo superpastor, not the real person who ministered. It’s good to realize we live with second-hand images of the past. We mustn’t take them too literally.
• The predecessor did some good. I assume God called my predecessor to the church and used him or her to minister to people. So, I always honor and speak well of my predecessor. Besides, any criticism of predecessors reflects finally on me.
If I come upon repugnant practices undertaken by my predecessor, I tell only a ministerial colleague. I find a pastoral friend to whom I can speak freely about my frustration, knowing that my friend will listen to my complaint with understanding and compassion.
• I am somebody’s predecessor. When I take the trouble to picture life for my successor, I notice that nobody wins. If my successor comes and ruins everything, I will despise the successor for undoing what I spent years to create. Then again, if my successor does well, it will look as if I’ve been “dogging” it or simply ineffective all these years.
Each of us is somebody’s predecessor—that truth helps me understand better the relationship I should have with my predecessor. Mostly, it makes me more humble about my situation. When I tire of hearing about the greatness of my predecessor, I remember that the congregation’s memory of me will irritate my successor. When I’m tempted to judge my predecessor, I remind myself that we have different gifts. In addition, we minister in unique circumstances—even when we serve the same congregation. The wonders of pastor So-and-so in the 1950s have no relationship to the wonders I hope to accomplish in the 1990s.
Dealing with a Present Predecessor
Sometimes a predecessor remains in the community and, worse, in the congregation. That fact is likely to cause a measure of panic in the pastor; it seems to be a guaranteed formula for disaster. But all is not lost if certain practices are adhered to.
• Establish clear ground rules. My second pastorate was a middle-sized parish in New Jersey. The day the moving van pulled into my driveway to deliver my household goods, my predecessor came to call.
After exchanging pleasantries, he informed me that he intended to live in the community and be a member of the church. Naturally, I was concerned. But he promised me he would (1) never comment about my ministry to others, (2) do anything in the congregation I did not first ask him to do, and (3) take no public stand on any issue before the congregation.
Admittedly, I was intimidated by and skeptical of this proposition. But this pastor was a man true to his word. To the best of my knowledge he never broke that promise. In fact, I had a friend, a colleague, and a supporter.
In this case, my predecessor approached me. But if he hadn’t, I would have soon made a call on him and worked out this or a similar agreement.
• Make use of the predecessor. In addition, we can ask the predecessor to perform occasional duties in the church—e.g., calling on shut-ins, teaching an adult class. This not only furthers our ministries, it also enhances the self-esteem of predecessors, calling on their gifts and experience. A predecessor so affirmed is less likely to interfere with the present ministry and, instead, will probably support it.
• Keep control of the situation. I always insist that requests to have a former pastor, present or distant, perform a wedding or funeral come through me. No matter how friendly we are with one another or how much I trust the predecessor’s judgment, I need to keep clear the lines of accountability. If I’m going to have an effective ministry, people must recognize who the pastor is.
• When trouble brews, take decisive action. I’ve not had this experience, but in talking with pastors who have, four steps emerge.
First, make sure there really is trouble and not just a misinterpretation. What exactly is the predecessor doing? With whom? To what effect? How often?
Next we have to determine how much of this activity we can take. For some pastors, one interference is too many. Others excuse episodes and look for patterns.
Third, when our tolerance finally runs thin, we should go to the former pastor and ask him or her to simply cease and desist.
Finally, if that doesn’t work, we can go to our parish board, describe the dilemma, and ask them to intervene. Once the former pastor sees that the church officially discourages such activity, he or she will likely stop.
Some denominations have procedures in such instances, and in an extreme case we might have to ask the denomination to intervene.
In the end, we have no choice but to reach out and take Dr. Adams’s hand and shake it firmly. Even if he’s not physically present, he’s going to be present in the minds of the congregation and in the life of the parish. Rather than chafe at his presence, better to learn to work with him.
Copyright © 1991 by Christianity Today
