“I think we should start every conversation — whether it’s the president making a speech, or us doing a show — with ‘ok, obviously, I’m a jackass, but I’ve prepared this evening of entertainment’ or ‘here’s the state of the union’… the fact that people are too insecure to admit to our foibles I think is one of our greatest failings.” -Nick
“I think the greatest sign of intelligence — I’m always impressed — when someone speaks like that, they have my full attention.” -Conan
In pastoral ministry, from teaching in the classroom to forming young leaders to directing retreats, I always hope that I can be someone who creates a space with conducive conditions for growth, and at the same time, I hope I never appear to be someone who is completely sure of himself or who has all the answers.
This is a bit easier to do in direct ministry, but perhaps a bit harder to do when writing or presenting. That’s why I was struck by this exchange between Conan O’Brien and Nick Offerman on his podcast.
Earlier today, I offered a session at the annual National Catholic Educational Association (NCEA) conference. I submitted a proposal about bringing Catholic Social Teaching to all areas of Catholic school campus life. My thought was trying to offer a little bit of “what” on what CST is, some “why” on its importance, and a whole lot of “how” on making it happen.
On the whole, I’ve always struggled to toe a good line. How can I demonstrate expertise without being dismissive or superior? How can I offer adaptable advice and examples without being wishywashy or pulling my punches? My hope is always to give a strong portrait of what I have seen work and why I think it’s worth trying, but to leave space for questions, to filter it through their skills and passions, and adapt what I offer so that it can be practical and effective in their ministry. I could never manage a schtick or gimmick and am a terrible, timid self-promoter. How can I overcome this and still do something helpful with peers?
So in my presentation, in slightly cleaner language, I used that little exchange as a way to try to contextualize the information I was about to offer. It’s an explicit way to hold two truths in tension that bracket the effort I make in accompaniment with other ministers:
First: at my core, I am a bit of a jackass — ask my wife or brothers or best friends.
Second: I have education and experience, passion and skills, and a desire to share and engage in exchanges to help spur good ministry.
I’ve always found ministry, especially writing, to be largely self-edifying – something that I can enjoy as a good in and of itself, only made greater when it takes root in others, builds communities, and nurtures deepened faith. This cheeky but authentic exchange from Conan’s podcast helped clarify a healthy approach – one in which ministry is offered as gift, in humility and imperfection, not with clicks or quotas or superficial metrics as its objective, but rather Christ.
This is a bit easier to do in direct ministry, but perhaps a bit harder to do when writing or presenting. That’s why I was struck by this exchange between Conan O’Brien and Nick Offerman on his podcast.
Earlier today, I offered a session at the annual National Catholic Educational Association (NCEA) conference. I submitted a proposal about bringing Catholic Social Teaching to all areas of Catholic school campus life. My thought was trying to offer a little bit of “what” on what CST is, some “why” on its importance, and a whole lot of “how” on making it happen.
As I brainstormed and outlined and compiled slides and resources, I worried a bit that my ideas might be too idealistic, too disruptive, too antagonistic. At other times, I did have some self-reassurance that my education and experience justified offering this perspective as best as I could.@ThisLadDan dropping brilliant ideas to infuse CST across the entire curriculum. plus, he shared a google drive full of resources, making it easy for me to share ideas with everyone in my school. pic.twitter.com/LFTe4JDAGq
— Cari White (@MnMonster11) April 19, 2022
On the whole, I’ve always struggled to toe a good line. How can I demonstrate expertise without being dismissive or superior? How can I offer adaptable advice and examples without being wishywashy or pulling my punches? My hope is always to give a strong portrait of what I have seen work and why I think it’s worth trying, but to leave space for questions, to filter it through their skills and passions, and adapt what I offer so that it can be practical and effective in their ministry. I could never manage a schtick or gimmick and am a terrible, timid self-promoter. How can I overcome this and still do something helpful with peers?
So in my presentation, in slightly cleaner language, I used that little exchange as a way to try to contextualize the information I was about to offer. It’s an explicit way to hold two truths in tension that bracket the effort I make in accompaniment with other ministers:
First: at my core, I am a bit of a jackass — ask my wife or brothers or best friends.
Second: I have education and experience, passion and skills, and a desire to share and engage in exchanges to help spur good ministry.
I’ve always found ministry, especially writing, to be largely self-edifying – something that I can enjoy as a good in and of itself, only made greater when it takes root in others, builds communities, and nurtures deepened faith. This cheeky but authentic exchange from Conan’s podcast helped clarify a healthy approach – one in which ministry is offered as gift, in humility and imperfection, not with clicks or quotas or superficial metrics as its objective, but rather Christ.
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