Talking about People v. Talking about Things

by Dan Masterton

Growing up, my family did the Sunday morning, after-Mass brunch thing. Our usual destination was the local Panera. Sitting down with our coffees and baked goods, the conversation usually flowed pretty easily, typically talking first about Mass and then the week past and week to come. Then, inevitably, we’d get into three tried-and-true subjects: history (the greatest trivial pursuit), Ireland (our literal fatherland), and sports (the heartbeat of many a Chicagoan).

My older brother, dad, and I would get going pretty good. My dad has the encyclopedic knowledge of history, especially of American presidents, to rival anyone; my brother and I have each lived in and traveled about Ireland, my dad’s country of birth; and the three of us follow Chicago sports past and present quite doggedly, having grown up with my dad’s Chicago Bears season tickets that are as old as my older brother. After a certain point, eschewing protest or complaint, my younger brother (a sports fan in his own right) would more or less check out to his own world, and my mom would busy herself with a newspaper word game or even just up and leave in favor of the Hallmark shop next door.

What was so different about the way my family members are wired? People often turn to the age-old classifications that some people are book-smart and some people are street-smart. Let me put it to you a different way: some people are more apt to think and talk about things, and some people are more apt to think and talk about people.

My older brother, dad, and me -- we all gravitate toward knowledge and criticism. When we were together, we could get rolling pretty quickly, especially on topics which mutually fascinated us. It isn’t that we lack social skills or aren’t interested in our friends and family; our minds are just wired more toward thinking critically about concepts, details, and analyses.

My mom and younger brother -- they both gravitate toward socializing. In a group or crowd, they’re both comfortable and outgoing, asking questions of others and making connections. It isn’t that either of them is unintelligent or dull; their minds are just wired more strongly to perceive others, reach out for conversation, and make connections to other people.

As I dug into undergraduate studies, I discerned a call to pastoral ministry, and I loved my first courses in theology, which I then declared as my major. I came to see a degree in the liberal arts as a degree in learning how to think critically, in which one’s chosen major is their preferred lens through which to think about the world. My theology courses were my chance to think about things -- things that proceed from the truth of a person, Jesus Christ, but things nonetheless. My theology studies would be the contents of my toolbox as I grew into a pastoral minister; between the University of Notre Dame and Catholic Theological Union, my think-about-things hardwiring was put to great use and helped me learn and grow profoundly.

Yet, called to pastoral ministry, I would have to do more than think and be more than a thinker. Definitionally, pastoral comes from the word pastor, whose root word is shepherd; pastoral ministers are called to accompany others with interpersonal spiritual care and support. I began my post-grad career with a year of service as a volunteer lay minister in Ireland, and my biggest takeaway was that all meaningful ministry and community proceeds from relationships. Even if I can think my way to great ideas and content for parish gatherings, no one will actually gather unless relationships and invitations draw people into community.

Pastoral ministry, like so many integrally Catholic things, is a both-and concept. Pastoral ministers must be strong in thinking and talking about both things and people.

Surely, we all can think of people who are more things-people than people-people, or vice-versa. In all likelihood, if we think about the leaders at our parish, there’s probably some from each category, too. I’d suggest that the ideal ministry is that which utilizes both these two areas.

One of the things that helped my family stick together well was the complementarity of my parents, siblings, and me, and of the strength of all of us together. My dad would often say that he was the “back” of the family, carrying the load of bread-winner and manager, and my mom was the “heart,” connecting us with family and friends in great love.

Our communities, our parishes, and our Church need the best of both kinds of thinkers. We need a blend and balance of hearty theologians and earnest relationship-builders. We need our leaders to be humbly aware of their weaknesses and have the pastoral sensibilities to delegate and to empower colleagues and community members. We need to look to Christ, who revealed Truth by His parables and preaching as well as by His encounters and relationships.