One day I asked him about “accountability” and how he understood it. We had a far-ranging conversation, but here’s what has stayed with me. One of the things he emphasized was the word “key,” as in “key accountabilities.”

On the back of the paper place mat in the restaurant he asked me to write down the three to five key things that I was accountable for doing in my work as a minister. There was worship and preaching and pastoral care. He asked me to define those for him. What was my key accountability in this? That was a good question. He asked me to list the specific responsibilities I had.

Then he asked two questions that have stayed with me.

First, where did I get this information? Who told me what my job was?

Second, with whom did I discuss this and agree on it? That got me thinking, and I can still see the back of the place mat with my key accountabilities listed on it.

Then he asked me about relationships and who were the key people with whom and for whom I was accountable in my work. I made a list on another part of the placemat.

He asked me who I reported to? Who did I go to when there was a problem? Who would come to me when they were having a problem?

Before I knew it we had a list of no more than 10 people with whom I was responsible for the leadership of the congregation. These included (I’m an Anglican) the two churchwardens, the organist, the parish secretary, and the chairs of a couple of key committees.

My management consultant said that if I paid attention to the two lists—key work accountabilities and key relationship accountabilities—that I would do just fine.

As the coffee came, he talked about trust—that most sacred part of human relationships. He said trust is often assumed but can never be taken for granted. It takes a long time to build and there is no substitute for carefully building a foundation. Once it’s broken, he said, it’s almost impossible to repair.

“So keep building the trust,” he said. “Over communicate—check your assumptions, let people know what you’re thinking. Invite them into your own reflections so that they can see where you’re coming from. And focus on the key jobs and key people and you’ll be fine.”

I hope you can see why I kept asking him to have lunch with me.

My doctor is a small man, and I’m a tall and big man. Every year when it’s time for a check up and I stand on the scales, he says the same thing: “You tall guys can sure hide a lot of weight.” He is a skier and works out. When I was in parish ministry, I didn’t have time to work out and skiing was too expensive. Besides, the one time I tried it, I couldn’t stop and ended up at the bottom of the hill in some hay bales, which were not soft cushions at all.

Anyway, sitting up on the paper-lined cot while he takes my blood pressure gives me a chance to think about my “lifestyle.”

And, in thinking about my weight (which isn’t way out of line, given my height), I have come to realize my good doctor does not face the reality of sandwiches and squares after funerals; of long car trips to and from hospitals; sitting at meetings for days it seems; meeting young couples about their wedding after dinner when you’d rather go for a walk; and having lots of good food and drink around while you’re working because there’s always something in the church fridge.

He sees patients in his office and then goes home. Probably he visits the hospital in the morning and I’m sure he has a very stressful job.

But when I go home, I’m faced with a bunch of deadlines that make me feel anxious—my column for the newsletter, the homily and arrangements for the funeral, Sunday’s sermon, and reading the minutes and reports for the volunteer community board I agreed to serve on. And I’m hungry, and there are snacks and beverages of a spiritual nature that will make me feel good and if I’m not careful, drown my sorrows.

This is a particular challenge in small rural parishes where there is a generation of generous women whose mission in life is to feed men.  I ministered to one of those congregations and I really enjoyed my afternoon visits because I love to eat. And most of the time I was hungry and so I wasn’t faking it.

But I knew if I ate too much in the afternoon, I wouldn’t be hungry for dinner, and my wife, who was home with the children and had worked hard to prepare something nutritious, wouldn’t be happy that I’d been out snacking.

I remember one cold afternoon visiting a farmer and his wife. We sat at the kitchen table and they set out a huge block of cheddar and homemade bread fresh from the oven. Tea was served in mugs and I could have happily sat there all afternoon.

I also remember enjoying some wine at a 50th wedding anniversary party and then having to shift mentally when someone wanted to have a serious conversation about their spiritual journey, more than I was up for.

I remember deciding that I’d better minimize, if not eliminate, drinking alcohol at church functions because in a sense I was “on the job” and I needed to be able to focus. There would be time—and there always was—when I could relax and put my feet up later.

So I’ve come to understand that, among many other stresses in ordained ministry in congregations, there is the added pressure of eating and drinking. Jesus enjoyed both, and we do need to celebrate all that life offers.

But there are special challenges for those who don’t have enough time or inclination to exercise, and who like to eat and drink, and who have stressful and important jobs.

Knowing I had an annual medical coming up always made me think twice about the second date square (my favourite) after the funeral.

A church I visited recently has a new minister. He follows someone who was there a long time and was well loved. I could see it was overwhelming for him to be with all these people and wonder if he’d ever get to know them.

I remember that feeling. Each time I moved it was awful. Saying goodbye to one set of people was hard enough. But suddenly, there was this whole new group—all of whom knew a lot about me already, and I had no clue who they were as individuals.  And what overwhelmed me was getting to know all their names.

What helped me was to keep a small clipboard with me on Sunday mornings so I could jot down questions about people that I could ask some of my key folks about—who’s the woman who sits by the window?  The one with the big hat? Who’s the guy who helps people get in and out of the elevator? It was like a crossword puzzle in a way.

Sometimes I could fill in the name of the person by myself. Other times, it filled itself in as I completed other parts of the puzzle, if you know what I mean.

I developed little tricks for remembering people’s names, which worked for the most part.

But even after being in a congregation for several years, there were a couple of embarrassing occasions where I should have waited and not tried too hard to get the name right. One was asking a woman how Roy was? “That was my first husband whom you buried,” she said.

Then there was a nice guy I really liked, but I could never remember whether it was Dave or Bob, and in trying to impress him, and maybe myself, I always got his name wrong. He didn’t stay with our congregation very long.

Once, when I was a new assistant, I visited the quilting group with my rector. There was one woman who didn’t come to church and he asked her, while we were chatting, why not? She said that whenever she came, he couldn’t remember her name.

He promised—I was there with him—that if she came the following Sunday he’d remember her name. So she did, and as she shook hands at the door, she said, “Now, what’s my name?”

He looked at her vacantly and said, “I know you—you’re Wednesday morning!”

When we say hello, it’s the beginning of a conversation that may lead to a relationship.

Clergy share in the ministry of the Good Shepherd who calls the sheep by name. Part of that is being known by name. A church congregation offers many people a community where they can be known by name.

As a minister, it occurred to me many times that getting to know people by name was one of the most important things I could do. Each name was tied to a person. Each name had a story to it, which was the story of that person’s life.

And so I said a prayer for the new minister as I watched him cope with this, and hoped that it wouldn’t be too long before he would know most of the names.

Praying for each other before arriving in a new congregation was how one minister did it. He asked people to send him a note saying they were praying for him. He sent them back a note saying he was praying for them. In this way, he compiled a list of people by name even before he arrived. I thought that was a great idea.

In my experience, the best idea for saying hello and getting to know people ended up being called, “The Great Store-Bought Cookie Project.”

I asked some key members in a congregation I was entering to arrange gatherings for church folks in people’s homes. The idea was we’d meet from 7:30 to 8:30, and I insisted that the only thing the hosts serve were coffee, tea, and store-bought cookies. I didn’t want the event to be a burden.

When we gathered at 7:30, I asked everyone to sit in a circle in the living room and then I explained I wanted to go around the circle and have everyone tell us two things—their name and how they came to this congregation.

They were wonderful evenings, and folks who couldn’t make one asked if we could organize some more. I took a calendar and all I did was put an X through two evenings a week and give those dates to the organizers. They’d tell me where I was going and off I’d go to meet some new folks. When they couldn’t fill one of my slots, I had the gift of a free evening—a real bit of grace.

I know of other clergy who have had gatherings at the church to meet folks, and there are many creative ways to enter and say hello. One of the privileges of parish ministry is that we have the opportunity to meet new people and tell our story again. It’s something that very few professions have—new opportunities with new communities.

I once heard a story from a minister who had filled in at a small country church. It was a very different, and positive, experience for him because he was from the city and worked in the church head office.

On Monday morning, he called the minister he’d supplied for to thank him for the opportunity. “How many did you have?” the minister asked. “Twenty-nine,” he said. “Does that include you or not?” was the question back. “No, with me included there were 30 of us.” “Then you had them all,” said the minister of the congregation.

In relating this story, the supply minister reflected on what it was like to “have them all”—to know that everyone was there who could be there. I would remember his reflections whenever I’d start the “hello” process. At some point, I would know the congregation. There would always be more “hellos” to come with new people, visitors, and others returning. But it would be a relief when I came to know the congregation and know them all.

How we say hello is very important. Life is lived between the hellos and goodbyes we say to each other.

And congregational ministry gives us the opportunity to say hello and get to know people in a very special way.  There’s something rather nice about the “honeymoon” period. But it usually doesn’t last long. Sooner, more often than later, there is serious work to be done and serious conversations to be had.

Recently I noted a few things that, from where I sit, are contributing to an increase in the challenge and ambiguity of ministry work. One of them is how active, or busy, people of all ages are. Every aspect of professional ministry practice is affected by this.

Take pastoral visiting, for example.

It used to be that some people were home during the day and ready to welcome visitors and friends. These days, few people are at home during the day. Healthy, active seniors aren’t home. Working parents aren’t home. And when young families do have “free” time, it is often taken up with competitive sports and other activities.

In terms of pastoral visiting, that leaves inactive seniors. And many clergy spend hours visiting these elders who have great wisdom and experience to share. In my own ministry, I always enjoyed visiting vital folks in their 80s and 90s who would lift me up spiritually and provide a longer view of life than I could manage on my own.

The level of activity most people experience extends to the evenings and weekends, including Sunday, traditionally a day to meet at the church for worship, meetings, or study. It’s hard to get people together, though, because they’re busy. And when they do get together, they’re tired. What they really need is rest and refreshment, not more engagement with leadership challenges in the church.

Churches rely on happy and healthy volunteers to staff leadership positions. What they find is that the folks who wish to help are very busy and very tired. This puts an added strain on the clergyperson, who typically spends hours recruiting, persuading, training, and hoping that somehow this person will do their job well and, if they’re any good, stay with it for quite a while.

Another challenge for the church is the competition. So many worthwhile agencies are doing important work: how do you—or do you—persuade someone that giving their time to the church is more important than being involved as a volunteer in their local social service agency?

Life is busier—more options are available, people are living longer and are able to do more things. All of this makes life much more challenging for the clergy because there is always some role that needs to be filled, some job that needs to be done. There is another problem and that is, often the folks with the most time to offer are not healthy themselves, or have needs that aren’t being met at home or at work, or they have difficulty getting along with people. And so in the name of helping, they may cause more problems than they solve and in the end, the job doesn’t get done.

What helps, I think, is to simplify things so that the priorities are well considered. What are the basic core functions of the congregation? These need to be looked after by the healthiest and most capable people.

We can’t turn the clock back—we have to deal with realities. And the church needs to adapt its decision making and accountability structures, and its ministry priorities, to recognize that active people like to be busy and it’s going to be a challenge for the clergy to manage this.

When I stop and look back, there are some changes that have happened in the 33 years since I was ordained that I think relate to both the challenge and ambiguity clergy face these days.

1. Church furniture

Something shifted, I’m not sure what, in moving the altar out from the wall. As long as the clergy had their back to the people, they were on the same side as the people, facing God. I know, I know—God isn’t and wasn’t ever in the west wall, with the priest being closest.

But from where I sit, moving the altar out and having the priest face the people has created an unexpected difference. People are now noticing more personal things about the priest than before, often burdening the ordained person with more projections. I think this adds to the ambiguity and the challenge of the clergy role. I also think something significant has shifted when clergy preach from the aisle. I’m not sure what, but it’s a major change.

2. Professional role and dress

My late father gardened in gray flannels and always put a tie on to go “downtown.” We dressed up for church. There were certain professionals you could recognize by their dress—the banker, the funeral director, the doctor, the lawyer.

In our time, perhaps in an effort to relate to ordinary folks, clergy are not dressing as professionals for the most part. Again, this is part of the ambiguity and challenge of the clergy role.  In our work with clergy, we often find that the clergy wish to belong to the community and be part of the whole people of God as fellow Christians. This sometimes conflicts with the community’s need for leadership and accountability.

3. The work day and the work week

In the 1920s labour unions campaigned for the 40-hour work week and the 8-hour day with the slogan: “8 hours of work, 8 hours of sleep, and 8 hours to do with what we please.”

Now many people work much more than 8 hours a day and 40 hours a week—especially clergy.

Perhaps I’m romanticizing, but I think there was a time when you could go home and you’d leave your work behind. But when you have a job that involves working evenings and weekends and being available to your people, it’s hard to turn work off. That raises another question about clergy Sabbath time, but I’ll save that for a future column.

Many clergy work too many hours and because of the nature of the job, there aren’t always shared agreements with parish leaders about the work week. I found Monday to be the best day of rest, although it was often filled with errands and chores. Friday I tried to keep free for sermon preparation and study. That left three days in the middle of the week that were crammed. I think the Jews have it right—God’s time is daily and weekly.

In our work with clergy we find there is a need for shared expectations about not only the primary roles, but also the time involved so that there is clarity, which builds trust—the most precious commodity in ministry and the hardest to rebuild once it’s broken.

4. Technology

In 1980 I went to a parish that was very proud it had a telephone answering machine. This was a heavy metal box with a couple of tape recorders in it—one for the outgoing greeting and the other for incoming messages. There was a plunger thing that held down the buttons on the dial phone until it rang and when it did, the plunger popped up, the greeting tape started, and people could leave their messages. Voilà!  I had to learn how to work this thing.

Then there were fax machines, real voice mail, the Internet, email, Blackberries.

The good news is that we can be in almost instant and constant contact. The bad news is that we can be in almost instant and constant contact. It’s a major challenge to turn off work.

Email is mostly good news. My parish in Toronto (The Church of the Redeemer) sends out e-news regularly and bulletins when there is special news or a funeral. Events and worship are planned electronically.

But email has a shadow side. In our work with congregations we find that occasionally private emails have been forwarded and circulated, causing a breakdown of trust. We need to develop some protocols for this new form of parish communication to protect privacy as we develop efficient communication. I haven’t dealt with Facebook and wireless devices.

That’s just a start for my list. What’s on yours?