Why the diaconate?
This May, I led a retreat for a wonderful group of deacons-to-be in the diocese of British Columbia, attended a consultation on the diaconate in Brasilia, and took part in the opening eucharist of General Synod in Montreal. I also celebrated 20 years of being a deacon. What a range of opportunities and adventures!
But the highlight of the month was the oppor-tunity to accompany Siméa de Souza Meldrum, an international partner from the diocese of Recife of the Episcopal Anglican Church of Brazil, on her visit to Canada just prior to and during General Synod. She is an exceptional person of faith, courage, and wisdom, who, as much as anyone I've ever met, exemplifies what I've been trying to say to people about diaconal ministry or servant leadership.
I began the retreat for deacons-to-be with a quote by Bishop Joseph Barber Lightfoot in an ordination address first given in 1883 for "Deacons Only."
He asked: "This office of the diaconate - what is it? What is its purpose, what is its character, what are its functions? What change will it make in my thoughts, in my habits, in my manner of life? What shall I be tomorrow that I am not today? What shall I do tomorrow that I am not required to do today?"
The questions have changed little since then. Today, when I speak to groups about the diaconate, the questions I am asked most frequently are: "What do deacons do? What makes their ministry any different from lay ministry? Why should we ordain deacons?"
I believe there are good theological answers to these questions. The purpose of the diaconate is to provide a particular kind of leadership for the people of God. What is confusing is that from about the fourth century on, it has been reduced to a kind of novitiate for ordained ministry, a six-month to one-year apprenticeship before being priested. However, a more recent movement seeks to restore the diaconate as a full and equal order within the church's threefold ministry, alongside the episcopate and presbyterate. In this view, each order makes a distinctive contribution to the church's life and leadership: bishops promote the unity, catholicism, and ecumenism of the church at the diocesan level; presbyters gather the local community of faith for worship, fellowship, and learning; deacons exemplify the servant ministry of Christ and mobilize the people of God into service.
The character of the office of deacon can be seen in the action of the servants in the story of the wedding at Cana (John 2:1-11). When they filled the jars with water, they acted with faith, yet in a direct and practical way that was both sensitive to the needs of the community, and responsive to the voice of Jesus. Though hidden and unrecognized, their role was transformative rather than servile. The character of the office of deacon can also be seen when Jesus washed the feet of the twelve. It was a concrete gesture of hospitality, but also a symbolic action performed to inspire and motivate his disciples to do the same.
The functions of the deacon, according to the BAS and also found in the BCP, are to set an example of service to all people, especially the most vulnerable, to interpret their needs and hopes to the church, to assist the bishop or priest in public worship. The deacon's role in the eucharist is a reflection of the deacon's ministry in the world: to announce the good news, invite prayers and response for those in need, prepare the table and clear up afterwards, dismiss the people. The actions are both practical and symbolic, serving as a reminder of what all Christians are called to be and do by their baptism.
The reason we ordain deacons is the same reason we ordain bishops and presbyters - to invite the strength of the Spirit, the recognition of the church, and the support of the people of God for their ministry.
While I believe it's important to become clear about the diaconate in relation to the other orders, and in relation to the ministry of the laity, I think the practical issues are even more important. Whether or not we call them deacons, the church needs dedicated leaders to inspire us to live out the servanthood of Christ in the world, especially as he makes himself known in "the least of these, my brothers and sisters" - those who are hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, and in prison.
It occurred to me, as I was going through my springtime experiences, that the life and ministry of Siméa de Souza Meldrum go a long way toward demonstrating the kind of leadership I'm talking about. Though a priest herself, her ministry is truly diaconal in the sense of being a sacramental sign of the servanthood of Christ.
Siméa achieved minor fame as the "star" of the Anglican video, I Live in the Garbage Dump. Those who have seen the video know the story, how one day she made a visit to the Olinda garbage dump with her youth group, and found that people not only worked but actually lived in the garbage, raised their children there, drew water, collected and ate food from the garbage.
When it was learned that a woman had mistakenly eaten human flesh - surgery waste was illegally dumped by a local hospital - thinking it was animal meat, an international scandal broke out. The media attention that followed embarrassed city authorities and private citizens into action. The result was housing for the most destitute families of the dump, more regulated garbage disposal practices, and the eventual conversion of the facility into a biological waste disposal plant.
Modest about role
Siméa is very modest about her role in this remarkable story. On her first visit, a man who was drunk offered her a ring and asked her never to leave. She felt in this gesture a deep sense of call. Even though she had no idea how to help, and even though she experienced disgust and fear, she remained steadfast. She told others what she had seen, looked about for solutions, accepted and acted on suggestions she thought would work.
At one point, she was asked to serve as a mediator between the company under contract to develop a biological waste processing plant on the site, and the people who depended on the garbage dump for their livelihood and housing. The company was in a hurry, and just wanted them out. She shared her dilemma about the future of the garbage dump dwellers with Missio, a group of Anglicans from around the world who were meeting in Recife. They signed a letter with their names and countries from which they came, asking that the garbage dump residents be moved into decent housing.
It worked! A few weeks later, Siméa received a phone call from the mayor of Olinda, offering land and materials for 120 families.
Today, everyone who once lived at the dump has been relocated to their own housing. Some are working in a recycling co-op. The community has started its own church, the Living Waters mission, complete with wardens and parish council. A new beginning. A resurrection community.
Getting dirty
This, I believe, is why the church needs to reclaim diaconal ministry. For the real question is not whether we have deacons but rather whether we can learn to practise diaconal ministry in the way that Siméa exemplifies.
The word diakonia, I'm told, means literally "through the dust." It describes work that has to do with getting dirty, with creating paths through new territory so others can follow.
In the BAS, the ordinal says about deacons that they are "to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick and the lonely." It says they are to "interpret to the church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world." It also says they are to serve "directly under the authority of their bishop."
Modern scholarship suggests that the diakonoi (ministers, servants, or more technically, deacons) in the early church were not just table waiters who did humble service. Rather, they had more of an ambassadorial function as agents, messengers and attendants for the episkopoi, or bishops, who had oversight of the well-being of the whole community.
Siméa's ministry among the dump dwellers of Olinda provides a very clear picture of diaconal ministry that includes both service and agency, with elements of both compassion and transformation.
When Siméa accepted the ring from the drunken man, she committed herself to those people and that work. There was stability and permanence to her relationship with them. She didn't just bring food and clothing and leave. On that first visit she had them stand in a circle and join hands, then quoted from a passage from Acts: "I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you: in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk!" It was an expression of hope and faith.
She went back to her congregation and "made a loud noise" about what she had seen until someone responded. A member of her parish who worked as a television journalist broke the story and attracted worldwide attention. I think this is what it means to "interpret to the church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world."
Siméa didn't work alone. When reporters from CNN and journalists from major newspapers appeared at her door, she called her bishop and asked what to do. He said, "Go and speak to them." So there was support and accountability for her ministry.
When she served as the go-between for the waste disposal company, and brought the letter to them from the Anglicans meeting for Missio, she was really acting in the interests of the garbage dump dwellers. Her own integrity was the catalyst that mobilized a positive response. Thus, being an entrusted messenger between different groups is a diaconal action, but one that assumes a preference for the most vulnerable.
I believe that a renewed diaconate will help point to the preferential and focused action of a diaconal community sent forth to serve all people, especially "the poor, the weak, the sick and the lonely," as distinct from the gathering, inclusive action of a priestly community. Anglicans process, assemble, sing, pray, and make eucharist very well indeed. What if we had deacons to make commitments, tell stories, relate needs, and send us out like Siméa did? What if this ministry was open to young people and other people of vision seeking to put their idealism into practice?
Bishop Lightfoot's questions are important. They need to be asked not only of deacons and theological students on the eve of their ordination, but more importantly of the whole people of God on the eve of a new millennium. If our church is to be a mission, servant people, and not just an assembled, surviving people, we need to take on the purpose, character, and functions of servant leadership, of diakonia that takes us "through the dust."
We need to commit ourselves to seeking out those whom our world rejects and forgets, to remain faithful in our quest to make a difference in their lives and ours. We need to interpret what we see to our parishes and church committees, to invite response, to mediate between the sectors and interests of our society, always maintaining a preference for the most vulnerable. And we need to find support and accountability within our structures and relationships to lift up this kind of work.
This is what gets me excited when I talk about the ministry of being a deacon, and what I hope will offer more adventure to me for the next 20 years, and more direction to the church for the year 2000 and beyond.
