We’re about to elect a new North Carolina Synod bishop at the end of next month, which begs the question of what a bishop does. Clearly, different bishops in different locations and times and with different personalities and priorities vary significantly, so in that sense, there’s no one-size-fits-all description. On the other hand, there are a lot of things that by design—by constitution and/or roster manual and/or policies and procedures manuals—to which a bishop is bound, either personally or sometimes through designated assistants.

There is quite a long and daunting list of bishop responsibilities required in synod constitutions. You can read that for yourself. This month, though, I want to speak a bit more practically in the classic Luther’s Small Catechism vein of “What does this mean?” So, for starters:

1. You drive a lot. A lot. It’s 10 hours from one end of this synod to the other. I will have driven close to a quarter-million miles in my 10 years, and that includes a pandemic. And it also includes a priority of showing up as living into our core value of relationship.
2. You fly a good bit. With companion synods in Costa Rica and Papua New Guinea and ELCA Conference of Bishops twice a year in Chicago and the ELCA Academy of Bishops every other year somewhere in the country plus ELCA Churchwide Assemblies, Region 9 Gatherings (I will have been to Puerto Rico four times during my 10 years) and ELCA Youth Gatherings and ELCA Rostered Ministers Gatherings and ELCA Committee and Task Force meetings and installations for other Region 9 bishops and sometimes even ordinations in other states, you get used to airplanes. In 10 years I will have gone to Chicago alone more than 30 times.
3. You basically keep a suitcase packed. While you plan a lot of things, just as in the parish, so many unplanned things come up. As I write this, I’m rearranging my upcoming week to be able to participate in the funerals of two retired pastors. Also, you often can’t plan misconduct responses and conflict situation responses. And, as I said, it’s four hours to Andrews and over five hours to Elizabeth City.
4. You supervise a number of people who in turn supervise others. Like, all of the A2Bs (Assistants to the Bishop) and the DEM (Director for Evangelical Mission) at a bare minimum. And you need to meet probably almost weekly with your candidacy, finance and administration, and communications people.
5. You have so, so many meetings. Agencies’ and institutions’ regular meetings, plus the committees you might be on there, plus NC Synod Council (four meetings annually), plus staff meetings, call committee meetings, synod committee meetings, ecumenical meetings, Region 9 meetings, etc. A2Bs are valuable designates, but even so, it’s so many meetings. One must learn to discern the essential from the merely important. And, of course, that shifts depending on circumstances.
6. You write a lot of things. Recommendations for each rostered minister profile (that only other bishops can see), letters of good standing, letters of recommendation for sabbaticals, and applications, and scholarships, and newsletter columns, and social media posts, and letters to legislators that the resolution at assembly directed you to do, and sermons, and devotionals, and…I’ve had multiple weeks—but probably not more than four in 10 years—in which I preached either four or five times.
7. People love things you write. People hate things you write. People get mad at what you say. More people get mad at what you failed to say. They say you can’t please everybody. But I think I will. Some while I’m in this office, and some when I’m done.
8. There’s not a lot about being a teacher in our constitutions, but I think that’s a key role for every rostered minister, including a bishop. We are the theologically educated ones, and I think it’s incumbent on us to share that.
9. You write and give a lot of reports. And, with your staff’s help, you keep a lot of records.
10. You get a lot of emails, texts, and phone calls plus a lot of contacts and followers on social media. You know that you’re still just you with a particular role, but honestly, in our system, you are pretty important, and as such, people want you to acknowledge, thank, and encourage them. I haven’t been the best at that, but I keep trying. A simple “I see you, I appreciate you,” both to ministers and to congregations, goes an awfully long way.
11. Your opinion matters a lot, but it’s far from the operative factor in situations. You’ve heard me say, maybe, that theologically I think we should ordain SAMS to local places, but our constitution doesn’t allow it.
12. One of your chief jobs constitutionally is to make sure constitutional processes are followed constitutionally in congregations and within the synod. 
13. You get to celebrate. You get to go to wonderful anniversary, and homecoming, and kickoff celebrations in congregations and affiliated agencies because you’re the bishop. You get to see the wondrous depth and breadth of the church at work in camps, social services, disaster response, seminary, university, men’s, women’s, and youth organizations. You get to ordain people you’ve walked with in the candidacy and call processes. For all the challenges, these make it so, so worth it!
14. You get credit for a number of good things that happen that you didn’t do. You get blamed for a number of things you knew nothing about but it’s still your fault.
15. You’re expected to be a good administrator and financial manager or at least very quickly surround yourself with people who are.
16. Take yourself seriously. You’re the bishop. If someone calls you and wants you to be the guest preacher for their 200th anniversary and you can’t come, they might feel slighted. Don’t take yourself too seriously. Somebody else can go. Or you can say, “I can’t come on that day, but I have two openings in November, and I’d love to come be with you then, and we’ll see if one of our other assistants can come that other day.”
17. People want you to have immense and nearly unlimited power to do what they are demanding that you do. People want you to have no power at all when they disagree with your perspective.

I could go on, but that’s enough for now. And, of course, it’s heavily from the perspective of how I have attempted to be a bishop. Others will do it differently. While I believe maybe I was, after all, the right bishop for my season, I’m the one who has also decided I’m not the right bishop moving forward. Somebody else is. And they’ll be different. And that will be blessed and beautiful.