With Herald Monroe’s term as chief executive of what would become the Christian Church in Ohio, from 1946 to 1979, those 33 years and subsequent attempts to follow in this diminutive man’s large footprints will occupy the next few installments of this “pastoral history” of our regional life.
With Herald Monroe we move into the risky terrain of living memory. He had died a few years before I first moved to Ohio, but I have an experience shared by many clergy of my generation -- that I feel like I knew him.
Bill Edwards said to me in 2015 that not a week went by where he didn't "bump into" Herald in his work around the region. More than a quarter-century separated their terms of service, but that's how influential Monroe's presence was . . . and still is.
As executive secretary and later regional minister from 1946 to 1979, a span of 33 years, Herald Monroe had the privilege to lead the Ohio Region in the midst of a forty year period of unbroken growth and expansion. The split of Restructure in 1968 did not impact giving because the congregations which withdrew at that time had in almost every case ceased to contribute to regional work long before; the attendance at Camp Christian was not decreased because independent churches had already been sending their kids elsewhere. Likewise while some of the Ohio young adults went to Cincinnati Bible College, most of the Advance Conference members continued to enroll at Hiram and Bethany, or make up large contingents of Disciples students at Ohio University or Kent State.
I do not mean to imply that any idiot could have had run the region well in those years; what I intend to do is set the context for what I believe has happened to the Christian Church in Ohio since, and towards what we might to do to set our common life back on better track for the future.
"Heraldisms" are still common currency in clergy conversations around Ohio. One of the indelible memories attached to him was that he was a pit bull for "his" ministers. This was a two-edged sword, but the stories are too common not to be accepted -- Dr. Monroe would come into a church meeting, and quickly sized up where the pressure was coming from to push out a pastor, and he would confront. A short man, he could intimidate from a sitting position, clearly communicating that his support was there for that man (and man it almost always was then), and that it was his belief that the disruptive influence might find themselves happier in another pew in a different building.
A common story I’ve had told is that he would pull out of a jacket pocket a small spiral notebook, and flip it open, and say “I came to town early today for this meeting, and drove around here a bit. I couldn’t help but notice that there are a number of churches in the vicinity.” And then he would start reading down a list of those other churches in a four or five block radius. Then he would snap the notebook shut, and say to the perceived antagonist “None of those churches are full. All of them would welcome a new member with your experience and gifts. Perhaps you would be happier in one of them.”
Sometimes the antagonist would leave in a huff, and the room would relax; sometimes the provocateur would shift tactics, and Herald would shift right with them; sometimes a modest breakdown would occur and after a bit of tissues and talking the real issues would get out on the table. It's clear to me, after thirty years in and around Ohio myself, that he was very, very good in his own way at handling these sorts of meetings.
He exerted authority, authority he did not technically have, very skillfully. It's also a commonplace that after "saving" the minister's job, which apparently he usually did, he'd have a private meeting with the minister in question, and they were rarely an "it's all fine now" chat. He was firm and clear, but behind closed doors. I've heard less about those conversations, but in truth I've never heard a soul say they were ill used in them, and more than a few said "he told me what I needed to hear, and what I needed to do." Sometimes, it was "and you need to move on, and I'll help you find the right place for your gifts. . . but on your terms, not theirs."
How did Herald Monroe have this authority, in a day when state secretaries really had none? He mastered the technique of clarity: "I only have the authority you choose to give me." I've used that line many times myself, having only heard it secondhand, but feeling its force all the same. He convinced congregations and leaders and fractious clergy that it was in their interest to grant him (and his staff) authority to advise and be honest, and they did.
Obviously there's a dark side to this model. I'd say two, in fact. One is that there was always a sense that either Herald liked you, or you were forever consigned to small churches and limited prospects. You were in, or you were out. I'd have to say that his circle of "in" was pretty big; I can't say who exactly was "out," but I'm sure that happened under this sort of system. He had a relatively small leadership team, and they were "Herald's boys" and they ran things under close, tight management -- clergy and lay leaders both.
The other dark side was that this model works best with a personality like the one at the heart of the model we’ve outlined here. You had to be a Herald Monroe to make the Herald Monroe system work . . . so what happens when a not-Herald takes charge?
Well, what could go wrong, when on Dr. Monroe's retirement in 1979 we had massive reserves, a large staff, new churches established in different corners of the state on a regular basis, and an internal process of fundraising through Ohio Disciples Outreach which was the envy of the rest of the Disciples of Christ regions?
An enviable mission statement, before mission statements were cool. Hat tip, Herald.
As it turns out, quite a bit could go wrong, but very slowly and incrementally. The ol' frog in the pot metaphor, come to life in our Ohio accounts and activity. But it took almost another forty years for the kettle to come to boil.