Trinity Papers No.17 - 'When Victor Turner met Carl Rogers: Implications for Pastoral Theology'

When Victor Turner met Carl Rogers: Implications for Pastoral Theology

by Colleen O’Reilly

Trinity Papers Number 17

Trinity College

The University Of Melbourne

Revd Dr Colleen O’Reilly is the Vicar of St Faith’s Anglican Parish Burwood. She presented ‘When Victor Turner met Carl Rogers: Implications for Pastoral Theology’ as the Noel Carter Visiting Lecturer during 2000.

This paper represents the seventeenth in a series prepared by Trinity College which focus upon broad issues facing the community in such areas as education, ethics, history, politics, and science. Copies are available upon request from the Tutorial Office, Trinity College, Parkville, Victoria 3052 Australia.

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Introduction It is, I admit, a little cheeky to suggest that psychologist Carl Rogers and the anthropologist Victor Turner might once have met, or to imply that I would know the outcome of such a meeting. If I had the skill of a David Williamson I might have written a play about such an imaginary encounter and this evening would be infinitely more entertaining for you. But sadly lacking such craft, I can only discuss in lecture format the mutual suspicion and now more recent dialogue between pastoral theology and ritual studies. This dialogue occurs within a wider revisioning of pastoral care, and its sources, methods and purposes. Rogers and Turner have already served their purpose by representing two disciplines which pastoral care draws upon, human psychology and cultural anthropology, although not always critically, and sometimes with an emphasis risky to the authenticity of the pastoral task.

I will begin by identifying some of the reasons why pastoral care came to rely on counselling as its primary means of assistance to the distressed. Discussion will then proceed to the implications of recovering the links which might emerge from an imaginary dialogue between Victor and Carl, that is between Christian worship and ritual, and personal and communal needs for pastoral care. We may play with imagination to create a dialogue between two scholars. But what is played out daily in pastoral practice is the interaction of rites and care, or its lack; no doubt for better and for worse.

Ultimately my concern is with this practical reality and with the formation of ritual presiders, lay and ordained, who care-fully do the rite thing: that is to say, who are skilled in all the means available for the healing, sustaining, guiding, and reconciling of people and communities in the name of Jesus Christ, motivated by Christ’s love, mediated to them through the rites of worship and rituals of prayer. (Clebsch & Jaekle, 1964) ‘But I want to be taught pastoral counselling.’

When I regularly taught pastoral theology to ordinands, some invariably wanted only to learn ‘how to be a counsellor.’ Careful explanation of the model of pastoral care which underlay the curriculum my colleagues and I had developed did not always satisfy students whose role model and anticipated mode of pastoral practice was the counselling of individuals. Questioning generally revealed that the clergy whom they admired and wanted to emulate after ordination functioned primarily as counsellors. No doubt some were fully qualified, professionally supervised, and offered a high level of help. Others, I suspect, were clergy enamoured of counselling as the exclusive and properly professional means to care for troubled individuals. The paradigm of care favoured by these counsellor practitioners has a crisis orientation, an emphasis on the individual, exclusion of the community as recipient or agent of care, and certain assumptions about the balance, or more accurately the imbalance of power, in pastoral care relationships.

This paradigm, commonly found in other helping professions, assumes a lack of mutuality (you need care, I provide care), a disregard of context (you singular have a problem) and a neat, controllable ordering of the clergyperson’s schedule into one hour appointments (you come when I am available, your time is not as valuable as mine).

How did this paradigm gain ascendancy in pastoral care? Three key influences can be identified in answering that question. Firstly, the socio/historical processes which have resulted in the professionalisation of the clergy. Secondly, the mutual suspicion which developed between pastoral counsellors and liturgists. And thirdly, the far reaching impact of the Clinical Pastoral Education movement in the formation of ordained and lay pastors. These factors are inter linked. However, each can be teased out to uncover the ways in which it has contributed to authentic developments in 2

pastoral care and also distracted pastors from some key resources in the repertoire of Christian pastoral care.

The professionalisation of the clergy Student requests to be ‘taught counselling’ become more understandable when seen in the light of historical and sociological processes leading to the professionalisation of the clergy. Anthony Russell’s The Clerical Profession (Russell, 1980) traces crucial changes in the role and functions of the clergy from the eighteenth to the nineteenth centuries. In preindustrial society, the role of the clergy was predominantly communal and sacramental. With urbanisation, and the transfer of former clergy roles to the newly developing professions of law, medicine, teaching and public service, clergy were left to create a virtue out of necessity and carve out a profession for themselves.

The resulting clerical profession displays characteristics common to all professional groups. There is a designated body of knowledge to be acquired and training in specific skills to be demonstrated.

Certain tasks may only be carried out by authorised members of the profession. Entry into its ranks and the regulation of those admitted is controlled by the profession itself. There are distinctive behaviours, forms of dress, professional ethics and structures for advancement. Members of the profession exhibit a collegiality which binds them in professional solidarity.

Clergy and lay people live with this legacy of professionalisation today. It’s appeal is powerful and its use now well established. Not all the characteristics of the clergy being a profession are negative.

Furthermore, the process has been fuelled by theological imperatives we would want to affirm. As the old structure of ecclesial authority derived from the state disintegrated, so clergy rediscovered specific roles derived from the ordinal and supported by the concept of a vocation to ministry. Both Evangelicals and Tractarians found this development attractive. Evangelical emphasis on authority derived from the Bible and personal inspiration, and Tractarian impetus to assert the autonomy of the Church, converged to legitimate the role of clergy by reference to markers internal to the church.

By mid nineteenth century much that we now assume about clergy was commonplace: that clergy devote their time to specific spiritual and ecclesial tasks, that they meet together for serious vocational purposes (in re-established deaneries) and that they exhibit a high level of knowledge and competence.

However, the appeal of a ‘professionalised’ approach to care, in contrast to a ‘professional’ one, needs critical evaluation when developing new paradigms and structures of pastoral care. One legacy of professionalisation means the ordained are seen as ‘the experts’ in religion and the laity as lacking in skills. Not only is this a distortion of the meaning of the Greek word ‘laos’, which includes the ordained within the whole people of God, but it implies that a difference between ordained and lay ministry lies in the acquisition of specialised knowledge rather than the discernment of vocation. No amount of theological education entitles a person to have a public ministry, nor does it assure the quality of any such ministry. Technical ‘know how’ is not the heart of pastoral or liturgical ministry, although an informed understanding and skilful competence are necessary. An emphasis on knowledge and skills fails to appreciate the centrality of the pastoral vocation, which may be lay or ordained, and the personal and communal integrity of the pastor. The ritual effect of ordination is reduced to admission to a professional body. Consequently, the importance of ritual in personal and communal pastoral care is not recognised by those who scarcely appreciate ritual’s effect on them.

Professionalistion seemed the appropriate path to enhance the status of clergy in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries when they were loosing ground to other professions. Influenced by Clinical Pastoral Education, commonly called CPE and to be discussed later, the clerical profession continued its development into the present, in tandem with health and helping professionals. The 3

extent to which the professionalisation of clergy has led them away from authenticity in the practice of ministry, especially pastoral care, needs evaluation.

Russell argues for more specialisation, that is for developing the existing model rather than alternatives. He says the process of professionalisation became arrested in the churches in the late nineteenth century, and that the clergy now suffer from a failure to develop further specialisations and group practices. It is true that no other profession has as many isolated solo ‘general practitioners’ as are the ordinary parish clergy these days. The range of skills and competencies required for the work of the parish priest is wide, and includes the motivating, equipping and oversight of lay pastoral volunteers.

Pastoral care by the laity is both their baptismal responsibility, and a practical necessity if the solo clergyperson is to carry out the many varied tasks required to lead and manage a parish’s diverse activities (including financial survival). But is further professionalisation as specialists the best way to develop pastoral care at this level? Of course there is a place for clergy who are counsellors, therapists and otherwise specialists in dealing with human distress and growth. But what of the parish priest, the ecclesial ‘general practitioner’? Do we not need to examine more closely the underlying ‘professionalised’ paradigm to discover new or forgotten resources at their disposal. In the day to day care of people and communities do we not need to consider alternative paradigms for the work of pastoral care to those which emphasise crises and problems, expertise and solutions?

Set alongside our own ritual practices, we recognise in other societies a common human need for the ordering and conferring of status within groups and cultures. Selecting some people from among the laity, designating them as ordinands and educating them as a group before returning them to the laity with the newly conferred status of ordained is no less a rite of passage than say, initiating children at puberty into adult status in traditional societies, or marriage in our own. The challenge facing churches today lies in discerning a contemporary ecclesial and theological authenticity for the clergy as a group of qualified professionals, taking into account history and sociology, and paying proper attention to the necessity of ritual processes, without buying into professionalism.

Theological imperatives underlie the practice of ordination. These cannot be set aside without fundamental changes to polity. Pastoral carers may shed the professional model; they cannot shed the processes by which they are recognised and authorised to act as representative persons. This is the heart of the dilemma. Theology and anthropology converge in support of creating a group designated the ‘ordained’ or the ‘authorised pastors’ whose ways of functioning and purposes are intended to be professional, competent and effective. They are meant to be drawing on the breadth of resources available as professionals but without losing focus on the primary pastoral motivation to be found in the love of Christ. In the end, indeed in the beginning, the love of Christ which we ourselves know as healing of our lives, should be our motivating experience.

There are dangers in de-emphasising professionalism in pastoral care. It protects valuable practices.

It is important to provide pastoral knowledge and skills as part of a person’s preparation for ordained or authorised ministry, and to require the continuing education of pastors. It is important that pastors develop a critical self awareness in order to recognise those times when the care they offer is, in part, an attempt to meet their own needs, or is flight from them. This is a key aspect of the personal integrity or steadfastness which good pastors strive for. It can be a most significant learning in CPE. However, integrity or steadfastness is more than self awareness or professional identity. Pastoral integrity involves fidelity to one’s vocation within the community of faith, whether lay or ordained, and to that vocation as both personal and communal. Such fidelity is not understood as an inflexible or deterministic commitment to a task once chosen earlier, but the 4

willingness to undertake permanently the disciplines which nurture pastoral competence and which foster and develop promises undertaken at baptism, ordination or commissioning.

Mutual suspicion between counsellors and liturgists A second factor has been at work in pushing the counselling paradigm to the fore. The separation of pastoral and liturgical theology as disciplines in the academy, and as partners in the church in the practice of ministry, has further contributed to the focus on the individual and the counselling appointment as the primary means of care. This separation of pastoral care and Christian rites has contributed to the failure of much Christian worship to provide pastorally for personal and communal needs.

The present situation is far from unique. Scottish poet Edwin Muir said of his native Calvinism ‘The Word made flesh here is made word again.’ (quoted in Campbell, 1986) Protestant tendencies towards rational over non rational means of pastoral care (I do not mean irrational) favours conversation over sacraments and preaching over laying on of hands. An historical example of this tradition is found in English Anglican Richard Baxter’s The Reformed Pastor (first publ. 1655) in which the seven pastoral functions listed (conversion of the unconverted; advice to enquirers; building up the already converted; oversight of families in the congregation; visiting the sick; reproof of the impenitent; the exercise of discipline) stress right doctrine but not right practice.

Without accompanying liturgical forms and ritual actions upon which to draw, pastoral care risks being captive to pastoral counselling. Without consciously held theological positions, pastoral care may accept uncritically secular models of therapy. Indeed, it may fail to draw intentionally much at all on any theology, let alone pastoral/liturgical theology. While these secular models have genuine value, without being grounded in a community’s worship, pastoral care can become what Scottish pastoral theologian Alistair Campbell calls bluntly, a perversion of Christian ministry. (Campbell, 1985 ) Campbell has been a key figure in questioning the limits of professionalisation in pastoral care.

Describing the pastoral task as ‘the mediation of steadfastness and wholeness’ (Campbell, 1986:16) he asserts the belief that we all possess resources for this task, found as much in weakness and strength. Campbell's vision is for embodied pastoral care which values silence before speaking, touch as much as talk, and companionship as much as professional competence.

Stephen Pattison, another British voice alerting pastors to the dangers of over emphasis on professionalisation, describes the dominance of pastoral counselling as ‘the psychological and individualistic encirclement of pastoral care.’ (Pattison, 1988: 84) Pattison’s analysis of seven reasons why this became so is most helpful in understanding why ritual, which draws on symbol and gesture and is communal even when most personal, has been neglected or misused. Christian symbols risk co-option to serve middle class individualism. Ritual can be reduced to encapsulating ‘my loss’ without linking its significance to the passion. Similarly other symbols of Christian faith can be stripped of their universal meaning so that resurrection becomes ‘my immortality.’

Although I noted earlier that pastoral care’s focus on the rational, on words and technique, is not new, ritual has been the traditional partner of pastoral care. Influences over the last fifty years have contributed to the present mutual suspicion of two elements formerly intertwined in church life.

These include a growing mistrust of authority and its representative forms; the Freudian linking of ritual with obsessional neurosis; and the assertion that ritual ignores the particular in favour of the general and is therefore not an adequate means of pastoral care today. (Mitchell, 1989 )

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Pastoral care is well able to respond to these assertions and overcome these suspicions Authority derived solely from claims to status is indeed mistrusted today. Pastors will not be accorded trust unless and until they earn the respect of people through a demonstration both of competence and compassion. While the institution of pastoring may be questioned, the care offered by a charismatic, that that is a called and gifted pastor is not. It is welcomed. A paradox is at work. The diocese ordains people and the parish receives them. Authority for the pastoral task has been given by the bishop and taken by the ordinand during the rite which makes them deacon, priest or bishop. The parish receives the ordained person and accords them the status which the rite has conferred. Yet the parish waits to see if this is a person they will also ‘ordain’ by the conferral of acceptance and by seeking them out as a pastor in times of need. Almost any parish priest can describe the intangible shift which happens, or fails to happen, in each pastoral appointment. Professionalisation of the clergy cannot accomplish this shift automatically. It can only arise in the dynamic between people.

Linking ritual with obsession and neurosis has obscured ritual’s place in everyday life. Like the two men in the Les Murray poem ‘The Mitchells’, nearly everything we say and do is ritual, it is just that we fail to notice. (Murray, 1986). People today prefer to rationalise aspects of life which past generations ritualised, as Clebsch and Jaekle point out in their historic survey of pastoral care.

(Clebsch and Jaekle, 1965) Communities cannot function without rituals. We create rituals for those experiences and events which are beyond rational explanation. People are creating rituals for events for which the church offers nothing. Divorce, important birthdays, moving house, preparing to give birth or leaving the land are examples of times when people take ritual into their own hands and do the rite thing for themselves. This trend is well documented. Recall how the community spontaneously looks to the churches for ritual responses to traumatic events. Recall the services held after Port Arthur in 1996 and the shootings in Strathfield, Sydney in 1991. The ‘Diana’ phenomenon was another example of spontaneous ritual, created it seemed, out of nothing, yet revealing layers of personal, communal, ancient and post modern elements.

It is not just coincidence that under the leadership of a Governor General who is also a Roman Catholic there have been noticeably more public rituals in response to community events in Australia than might have been predicted. Sir William Deane undoubtedly understands the links between care and ritual. But clearly the public and folk culture is also changing and appreciates these links. The Governor General would not be able to impose rituals on Australians who would soon enough cry ‘foul’ if they sensed too much ‘religion’ going on.

The repudiation of ritual forms as necessarily formal and too lacking in warmth to be pastorally sensitive must be questioned. People and communities implicitly do so each time they devise a liturgy or ritual to cope with key or unexpected events. At a time when the Enlightenment’s confidence in the empirical and the rational is breaking down, and the gap between Christian rites and human experience has widened, people are creating their own new rites.

The reasons for this situation are multiple. Fewer people turn to the church for appropriate rites at times of birth, marriage and death. Civil celebrants are available for those who prefer them, and alternative venues to church buildings increasingly sought. The decision to allow Anglican clergy in Melbourne Diocese to marry people in venues other than churches or chapels reinforces individualism as couples seek ‘their special place’ rather than ‘the public place.’ There are good reason to support this permission, but its effect further erodes one of the few symbols shared by church and culture.

At the same time that people have abandoned what many consider is antiquated and irrelevant in ritual, festivals and events proliferate. There is scarcely an unclaimed awareness week or an unnamed appeal day. The whole world it seems is poised for the biggest festival of all, the Olympic Games.

Who, it seems, would question the desirability of excitement? With characteristic prophetic courage a 6

recent cartoon by Michael Leunig (The Age, 26.8.2000,18) announces that a ‘time is coming when no festival, celebration or major event will be a making a claim upon your existence... perhaps it will be called ‘ordinary time’...’ ‘Are you ready?’ asks the cartoonist, having warned readers that there will be ‘no logo, no poster and no slogan’ for this ordinary time, only the coming and going of ordinary things.

Perhaps the abandonment of ritual’s authentic power is what gives rise to the marketed event and the constructed celebration. It would be comforting to think so, but far too facile I suspect. Perhaps the marketed event is today’s culturally sensitive ritual. Nostalgia for an imagined past when Christian ritual’s pastoral power was adequately valued, comes cheap. Recovering the value of rituals in pastoral care, and learning competence in the uses of symbols and gestures will be harder work.

When well done, rites indeed have power which pastors may access to provide pathways through personal and communal events. Rites are not necessarily impersonal although ritual leaders may fail to make important connections in a celebration, rendering the rite pastorally ineffective. Much lies in the skill of pastors and people in weaving personal experience with larger human meanings.

Not that ritual guarantees good care. Authorised rites intended for pastoral use are not always used carefully nor experienced as ‘full of care’ by recipients. Ritual may overshadow pastoral care. What sufficed once may not now. I had such an experience, after the birth of my first son in London, when I asked that Holy Communion be brought to me in the hospital. This was arranged by the English hospital staff, and the local priest brought the reserved sacrament. In keeping with pious custom he was unwilling to engage in conversation while carrying the sacrament, and neither before nor after administration paused to speak to a new mother with an Australian accent in a London hospital bed who had asked him to visit. The implicitly expressed need for pastoral care and attention was only partially met. I received communion, as I asked, but I felt uncared about.

The sacrament of anointing provides a contrasting example of ritual and pastoral care kept in tandem, adapted over time in response to pastoral needs, and still developing. As a partnership of ancient biblical symbolism, Christian historical and liturgical resources, and contemporary pastoral need, anointing of the sick is a good paradigm of liturgical pastoral ministry. The act of anointing, now freed from its exclusive connection with imminent death, is regaining increasing acceptance as a pastoral rite.

The psychiatrist in Peter Schaffer’s play Equus, tells his patient ‘without worship, you shrink: it’s as brutal as that’. The pun on the slang term ‘shrink’ is a sharp reminder that in a world and even a church which has largely forgotten how to worship, it is not surprising the counsellor’s office has become an alternative shrine.

Clinical Pastoral Education The Clinical Pastoral Education movement, known as CPE, has contributed to the education of almost all ordained or professional lay pastors since its early beginnings in the United States of America in the mid 1920s. I understand that a basic unit of CPE is required for ordination in Melbourne diocese. The CPE model brings together psychology, medicine especially psychiatry, and theology. The focus is the individual carer and the ‘one to one’ act of care mediated using the skills of counselling. Psychotherapeutic theories have been disseminated through CPE and found fertile ground in the western cultural context which valued highly the needs and potential of each individual. The interests of contemporary philosophy and theology in the middle part of the twentieth century, exemplified by theologians like Tillich and Bultmann, favoured an emphasis on individual experience.

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The value of CPE in exposing theological students to ‘living human documents’ is not underestimated here. Anton Boisen’s innovative method of introducing students to the complexities of individuals with psychiatric or physical illness demonstrably develops pastoral skills, as well as exposing unresolved emotional issues in the student which may prevent or hinder effective pastoral care. Given reinforcement through CPE’s teaching tool, ‘the verbatim,’ it is understandable that psychological models of care have held sway in the twentieth century. The search for connections between psychology and theology is valid and given impetus to the growth of CPE. The result is that being counselled is the expectation of significant numbers of pastors and those for whom they care. There is a great deal of emotional confusion and hurt in people’s lives, even when those people are successful and cope well with the demands of a complex society.

Healing these hurts, overcoming dependencies and growing towards a mature interdependence is a major task for people today. There are scarcely enough counsellors and therapists to facilitate these processes. Pastors are frequently invited to accompany people at times of crisis and growth and need to understand both the processes and themselves as participant carers.

However, it is worth noting these developments have coincided with a decline in religious observance generally in the population. Pastoral counselling has come to prominence at a time when clergy have less social importance than previously. Has it been a useful means to recover an apparently clear focus for the pastoral task? Nor is it unfair to ask to what extent CPE has lost its theological moorings. The question is rightly asked from time to time of any pastoral practice.

Those most closely involved with CPE are among its best critics, as a survey of articles in the relevant journals demonstrates.

Conclusion A sea change is occurring in pastoral theology The critique of an over reliance on counselling as the primary means of care is a ‘sea change’ in pastoral theology. The professionalisation of clergy has led to pastors drawing on psychotherapeutic models and skills in counselling learnt in a clinical setting, in preference to classic sources. Pastoral theology is currently reconsidering the cost of this and asking what has been overlooked in the process. Much pastoral care literature in the twentieth century became so enamoured of psycho dynamic insights and counselling methodologies that it referred to the Christian theological heritage only in passing and then only in a functional way. As Alistair Campbell comments ‘the tradition deserves more careful attention than that! ‘ The church has a long practice of mediating care through worship and pastoral rites which has been set aside, and its significance derided. Much of the dichotomy between ‘private’ acts of care and ‘public’ worship and rites has been learnt by pastors in the processes of theological education. The academy has separated pastoral theology and liturgical studies in the classroom and thereby, it seems in practice of graduates.

Pastoral theologians may rightly affirm the value of skills learnt from the helping professions. At the same time, they may rightly refuse to relinquish the church’s claims to be expressing a particular vocation in Christian ministry and drawing on theological perspectives and ritual practices. The corrective is not an uncritical attempt to recreate the past. For example, deploring people’s failure to make use of the rites of individual confession without asking questions about contemporary experiences of personal sin is inadequate. This is to uphold ritual without pastoral concern.

Asserting that personal sin is out of date because modern psychology has abolished it, is to uphold psychology over ritual.

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The divide between counsellors and ritualisers challenges historical patterns and has led to ‘modern pastoral disregard for its ritual inheritance [which] represents the sharpest discontinuity with the great tradition of pastoring.’ (Clebsch & Jaekle, 1964) Pastoral care is today challenged to draw together contemporary experience and Christian theology expressed in pastoral conversation and rites, thus returning to partnership two shapers of pastoral practice which have become separated to our cost.

The notion that ritual is boring, irrelevant and alienating simply because it is ritual, has a firm hold on the modern mind, even within the church. As people and communities move away from ritual, contempt for ritual forms develops. This is followed by the internalisation (only) of religious experience, and then a move to humanist philanthropy. If correct, the third stage finishes the symbolic life of the spirit.

Arguing for the centrality of ritual leadership in the work of pastoral care may appear to be a reactionary claim for a fading power or a utopian reconstruction of a lost one. But I hope to fall into neither trap. My aim is to find a way forward which values the received tradition, recognises the complexity of the present post modern context, and honours the human need in every time and place to find authentic ritual pathways.

Ritual has consistently played a substantial role in the performance of the four major pastoral functions of ministry, sustaining, guiding, reconciling and healing. Turner’s elucidation of the structure of rites of passage is a most useful framework for both pastoral conversation and creating rites for transitions. The identification of separation from the former status, followed by a time of liminality or ‘betwixt and between’ which culminates in reintegration with a new status is a most valuable contribution from ritual studies to pastoral theology and practice. Consider its value in assisting a person to move from the former family home to retirement housing; to prepare for birth; or for a gay or lesbian person to acknowledge their truth before God. Its application to existing rites is obvious, but how many presiding at baptisms, weddings and funerals understand the passage which the rite encapsulates? In my experience ordinands do not necessarily appreciate the ineluctable consequences of the rite they undergo, except in so far as it changes the functions they may perform in the church. It seems we mistrust rituals even as we take part.

The command to love God and our neighbours as we love ourselves is the foundation of all Christian ministry which cannot be achieved solely by the attainment of professional skills or ritual leadership. Something more is needed if love, rather than professional help alone, is to be mediated. A rediscovery of pastoral care in its theological and historical integrity will be necessary if the clarity lost through alienation from traditional understandings of the pastoral task is to be recovered and developed.

Through prayer in its many forms, listening to the scriptures as well as studying them, and through theological reflection, any pastor may grow in personal and vocational identity. Without such disciplines, which keep alive our sense of dependence on God’s gifts and graces for ministry, pastors risk an over reliance on skills learnt in the classroom or CPE. Through the reintegration of the classical traditions, earlier writings and rites, it becomes possible to support the role of the ritual leader in the pastoral task. Recovering confidence in the purposes and functions of ritual needs to begin in a synthesis of liturgical, pastoral and systematic theology. Such recovery, evident in the literature, needs to be modelled in the classroom and seminary chapel if it is be practised in the parish by the ordained, and modelled in the parish if it is to enliven the people of God and their mission in a broken and divided world.

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Articles Aune, Michael. “But Only Say the Word’: Another Look at Christian Worship as Therapeutic.’

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Liturgy Digest 1/1 (1991): 4 36.

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