One of my professors back in div school always ended his semester-long church history class with the same story. It ruffled my feathers at the time, but a decade later… well, no, I still think it was pretty awful, so I’m finally putting pen to paper on a response.

As the story goes, a 25-year-old Methodist pastor fresh out of seminary was making home visits to members of his first church. When he visited one woman, a 95-year-old matriarch of the church, she thanked him for the visit but then said, “With all due respect, pastor, I’m 95 years old. I’ve lived a long full life, so I’m not sure you’ll have anything new to teach me.” Unfazed, the young pastor replied, “With all due respect, ma’am, when I’m in that pulpit, I’m not 25 years old; I am 2,000 years old.”

There were a few gasps and impressed grunts as my professor finished the story, and to a room full of future pastors, I can see why the tale would feel empowering. Many of these future clergy would be heading out to traditional rural churches where they would face significant difficulty, and the story served as a nice little shot of confidence. My professor sought to remind my peers they were stepping into a 2,000-year-old ministry which had stood the test of time, and it wasn’t their ability that would get them through, but the longstanding authority of the institution. Again, I understand the sentiment and can see why it would be encouraging, but something about it rubbed me the wrong way. (And no, it wasn’t just the repeated use of the phrase “with all due respect,” which has never once in the history of the English language preceded something respectful.)

I remember leaving the classroom that day and thinking to myself, “Hey, wait a minute! The woman in his story is part of the church too, so isn’t she also 2,000 years old? When we’re together and attuned to the Spirit’s presence, we are all 2,000 years old! The pastor in the story wasn’t any more enlightened or mature or extra-blessed than the woman; he was just being a dick to someone who could’ve been a big help to him!”

Even though I’ve stepped away from leadership in traditional brick-and-mortar church ministries these past few years, I still worry about churches. I worry about the attitudes our seminaries promote in pastors and about their inability to transition from cloister to community. I worry about how corporate leadership culture has invaded the pastorate. I worry about a widening disconnect between clergy and laity. I worry about the church itself becoming an object of worship. I worry our desire to maintain the order of the building will draw our attention away from the God who once flipped over tables to protest what the building had become. I worry the sacredness of spaces and rituals and writings might distract us from the sacredness of people. I worry we’ll lose sight of one of the most important lessons the earliest churches held dear:

The love of Christ should level us, not instate new hierarchies.
If any one member of the church is 2,000 years old, the whole body is.
God can speak through any member of the church, not just the pastor.
In fact, sometimes the pastor may be the person most in need of rebuke!
The Kingdom of Heaven doesn’t double down on existing power dynamics; it reverses them.
We are all of us one great Body, so let us treat each other as such.

And no, for the last time, I will not be contributing to the alumni fund. I’m a poor broke minister who still has $62K in student loans. Stop asking.