As Old South prepared itself for a major decision-making point and a special meeting of the congregation, the governing board thought it would be a good idea to offer a pre-game gathering, a time for people to ask questions and share their thoughts and concerns, without the pressure of a vote at the same time. At this pre-game gathering, though, there was little in the way of questions, only a couple, and just a concern or two. The whole thing, including introductory comments from a couple of people from the governing board, lasted thirty minutes.

The following day, the moderator of the congregation received a lengthy email from one of those who attended the gathering. The email expressed complete and utter outrage that this person’s questions and concerns were not addressed— even though that person never said a word!

Another person at that gathering expressed grief and heartbreak regarding where the church finds itself, and then started to formulate a question, directed to me, in a not very direct way. When I asked for more information, so that I might be able to respond in a helpful way, the person was noticeably irked and had difficulty in finding the right words to articulate a concise question, yet also made it clear that at least part of the problem was me. Why was I having so much difficulty understanding what was in her head?

In another recent classic church episode, one church member (#1) spoke to another church member (#2) regarding an issue that she, #1, wanted me to address. So, person #2 contacted me about the issue and then I contacted #1 about a plan of action. In #1’s response, she declared that she was hoping that something would happen regarding the issue in question— even though she had had no intention of bringing it to me herself.

These are just a few examples of occasions when it’s been clear that there is, among some, a certain expectation that somehow the rite of ordination bestows the gift of mind reading upon the new pastor, a skill that s/he will employ meaningfully throughout their career. Time and time again, over these many years, I have found myself in awkward situations that revolve around my inability to see directly into a parishioner’s mind and to perceive clearly their question, concern, or worry.

When I was in divinity school many years ago, I’m quite sure there were no course offerings that included lessons on how to read the minds of others, including those who attend church worship on a regular basis and are actively involved beyond worship. Truth be told, there is something alluring about the prospect of being able to read the minds of the people who attend Old South regularly, and to know more fully what they might be thinking. Yet, I’m also quite sure that I probably don’t want to know.

To be fair to my congregation, and perhaps other congregations as well, I have had, over the years, several people who not only assume that I cannot read their minds, but have been all too willing to make sure they find ways of telling me directly exactly what they are thinking. I remember one gentleman, a man who died over a decade ago, who was offended by something I said or did about once or twice a year. When I arrived at the church for Tuesday office hours following one of those offensive events, there he would be, waiting for me. There was another gentleman who would come storming into the parish house, if he saw my vehicle in the parking lot, to let me know the latest thing I had said or done that had sent him into paroxysms of annoyance. And, then there was the woman who wasn’t a member of Old South very long, but came in for a visit shortly before she moved out of state, to inform me that I was “doing it all wrong.” In each and all of these, the conversations that ensued were not easy, but they were always beneficial— to both parties.

And, none of them demanded any mind reading at all.

Ministry, as a unique relationship between pastor and parishioner, is oftentimes a delicate and complex dance. When both pastor and parishioner are able to be open, honest and trusting, the fruits of good relationship unfold with blessing after blessing. When, on the other hand, a parishioner expects the pastor to magically discern what’s on their heart and mind, the result is frustration and a decidedly warped relationship that doesn’t feed the spirt or faith of either.

Even if a course in mind reading were available, it probably wouldn’t actually be all that useful. There’s something significant in the articulation of one’s thoughts to another, parishioner to pastor, and the reverse. As I have experienced with those who have been more than willing to share their anger and frustrations with me, the opportunity for a broader and deeper relationship, with mutual understanding, is powerfully meaningful.

I very much miss those Tuesday morning visits with that long-time parishioner and the random visits from the other, both usually starting from anger but always ending in understanding and growth. But, I doubt I’ll ever miss the angry email outlining unknown questions I mysteriously never answered, or the “hopes” of other parishioners who seem more comfortable in game-playing than in building pathways of good relationship. Ministry is hard enough. Best not to complicate it still more by demanding the skills of the psychic.