Expertise, Vocation, and Gordon's Rule

A pastor that I like and respect made the following observation on social media:

I know it's been said before, but I honestly had NO idea so many pastors were in reality experts on political science, medical science, disease control, economic theories, and the like.

Clearly I went to a different seminary where they only taught us about Jesus.

I'm cool with that, though, I guess. I mean, since talking about Jesus is my job, I don't mind just knowing about Him.

Obviously, he’s being a little cheeky and addressing an issue of someone going “out of his lane” and speaking to something that, in the opinion of this pastor, he is not qualified to address. I get that. But I think he is taking things too far. And my disagreement with him should not be seen in any way as disrespect. But I do disagree.

His comment made me think about the cultural tendency to dismiss what pastors might say with a flippant wave of the hand and a facile roll of the eye, because, they’re, well, pastors. Aside from the “religion thing,” what could a pastor possibly say that could have any value? I’m reading the great satirical wartime military novel, Catch-22 by Joseph Heller. The attitude of all of the characters toward the squadron’s chaplain is illustrative. He is seen as having no value in the “real world” whatsoever. And he has come to agree with them.

Interestingly, in the “real world,” many of the greatest minds in the history of science have been clergy, who have also historically been great writers, poets, philosophers, artists, and professors.

Just in my own circle of friends in the world of the clergy, I know pastors who are indeed medical doctors, lawyers, military personnel (including a rear admiral, a colonel, a JAG, and a Navy captain - the latter of which happens to be a retired fighter pilot). I know pastors who are musicians and composers: classical, choral, rock and roll, and even one who plays the banjo (you might know him too). I know pastors who are experts at woodworking, cars, motorcycles, firearms, hunting, farming, leadership and management, literature, film, body-building, health and fitness, baseball, martial arts, comedy, bicycling, running, and a few aficionados and connoisseurs of wine, scotch, and cigars. A good number of pastors are teachers and professors in many and various subjects from grade school to grad school. Many are fluent in several ancient and modern languages. Increasingly, pastors are bi-vocational, and having multiple areas of skill is a matter of survival.

In my own life, I’ve worked retail, loaded trucks in a warehouse, been a corrections officer, had a career as an IT consultant, and recently, was a pretty darn good Uber driver and New Orleans tour guide (if I do say so myself). I’m also a fire service and Civil Air Patrol chaplain. I have been a HAM radio operator for 45 years now (though I don’t purport to be knowledgeable on the state of the art of radio as it exists today - but back in the day as a pre-teen, I could keep up with the grizzled WW2 veterans when it came to sending and receiving Morse Code at 50+ words per minute). I was a Latin teacher based almost entirely on self-study. I currently also teach high school, and my coursework includes economics, political science, American history, and literature. So I consider myself a ongoing student of all of these topics as well. I take my study in economics and political theory very seriously, and do a lot of reading in those areas. Whatever I want to learn, I always try to be the dumbest guy in the room - and for some of us (as in myself) this is not a difficult thing. I find that to be a great way to learn a topic well and quickly. It would be strange indeed if I knew nothing about my subject areas in my concurrent vocation as teacher.

It goes without saying that I have picked up a few skills along the path of life - in spite of my highest academic degree being a BA in History (the MDiv is not an academic degree). And it also stands to reason that most things I’m terrible at (like everyone else). We’re all good at different things. But I suspect most of us pastors do have skills and knowledge that have nothing to do with theology. We should not see ourselves and other pastors (and laymen of both sexes) like the hapless Chaplain Captain Tappman in Catch-22.

Most pastors also have other vocations that include being husbands and fathers. And though society treats these holy vocations as if they were a joke, these are among the most important callings of all - and being adept in these familial roles in no way takes away from a man’s role as pastor. In fact, they are an addition rather than a subtraction.

And for a pastor who is an American citizen and who votes, he should know a thing or two about American history, political theory, the Constitution, and political science in general. He really also ought to know something about economics, since politics often touches upon it. As far as medicine and disease control go, if one has certain equipment, one ought to read up on how to use and maintain it. And this goes for the human body as well. Every owner and operator of a physique would do well to study, research, and have a sense of keeping the apparatus going. This is not to say that every body-owner should charge money to treat other people, but by the same token, knowing a thing or two about diseases and treatments should not be seen as stepping out of one’s vocation unless one has a medical doctorate.

And everything that I have just said about pastors can, and does, apply to the laity as well.

For example, I have nurses in my congregation who are a great resource for medical advice (I had a medical doctor in the parish, but he is now with the Lord). I also have parishioners whom I ask for advice who have no medical training, but who have expertise and experience in natural medicine and supplementation. The last medical doctor I went to admitted quite frankly that a lot of medical doctors are quacks. He is himself a dissident on the government line on masks and Covid. So whether one has a degree or not, caveat emptor (buyer beware) still applies. Professionals can, and do, disagree with each other. It would be scary if they didn’t.

I have a friend who is a literature professor who has published many outstanding books on military history - with no formal training or certification in that field. I know many people who have never set foot in a university, but who are among the smartest, wisest, and most skilled and erudite people that I know. One would be crazy not to seek out their counsel. I have a parishioner who is an associate concertmaster philharmonic violinist who works as an auto mechanic, is a devoted husband and father, and who is one of my top go-to resources when it comes to cocktail mixology.

That is the glorious reality of the doctrine of vocation.

I live in South Louisiana, and most people would not believe how many completely untrained, unlettered chefs there are from every walk of life in these environs, whose cuisine is, as they say, “to die for.” And in this part of the country, men often “wear the apron” in the family, as the kitchen may well be as much his domain as is the garage. Indeed, grease may be used to fry a turkey or lube a motorcycle chain. And the guy doing both might well be a state Supreme Court justice or a shelf-stocker at Walmart. Nobody bats an eye.

The Lutheran doctrine of vocation is not a slavish reliance on technocracy and experts with a piece of paper from an academic institution or the state.

In fact, it was our tradition that forged ahead with opening the Bible to ordinary people so that they could read Scripture for themselves, so as not to rely solely upon theological experts - who were often hoodwinking them. And a person may well have a vocation for something not based on a degree or certification, not based on a government license or trade union card - but simply based on self-interest and self-study. Thanks to the Internet, it has never been easier to become an expert on just about any topic without paying a dime of tuition. This is not to say that everybody is an expert. Far from it. But neither should we assume that someone isn’t an expert without letters behind his name, nor uncritically accept the word of those who do.

We should use discernment.

A friend of mine named Gordon is an attorney. We have attended the same economics seminar and book club for many years. When I first met Gordon, it seemed like he knew everything about everything. At first, I suspected that he was a common blowhard, along the lines of the court-holder from the classic Robert Ringer book Winning Through Intimidation. But, my goodness! Was my suspicion ever wrong! I learned quickly that Gordon really does know everything about everything, like the proverbial Jeeves from the P.G. Wodehouse books. No matter what topic pops up: Japanese culture, the Cuban revolution, economics, philosophy, jurisprudence, American history, warfare, - pretty much everything - he can hold his own with the experts, but in no way comes off as arrogant. Gordon told us his secret. From the time he was quite young, he made a commitment to himself to read for two hours a day. The topic doesn’t matter. Just read.

And so, whether Gordon has a degree in this or that really doesn’t matter. He is a cornucopia of knowledge. Indeed, in this day and age, it is easier to become a renaissance man than it was during the Renaissance.

Pastors, I would encourage you to adopt Gordon’s Rule. And that goes for laymen of both sexes as well.