Searching for God # 111

 “You are far and away too intense for me!”

That quote comes from a female supervisor to this then assigned intern to a rural Ontario parish, a few months after arriving, immediately following the departure of a previous clergy. The diocesan leadership told me nothing of the circumstances, the profile of the parish, nor the background for the clergy’s leaving. A recent graduate from Trinity College, University of Toronto, I had served an internship in a small metro parish that had, prior to my arrival, undergone considerable trauma.

I reference the quote for multiple reasons about the kind of perceptions, attitudes and judgements that fly around in parishes with both impunity and immunity. It is the ‘ethos’ within a parish that has received very little attention, both in seminary formation as well as in professional development programs for clergy. And, from only a dozen years of engagement inside the Canadian and American churches, I have noted a series of similar, if not identical, patterns of lay leadership, as well as clergy-parish relations.

Previous evaluations had included words like ‘impatient’ and ‘verbose’ and ‘energetic’…..intensity had not emerged until the above quote.

In the homily delivered by my former Faculty Advisor, Rev. Dr. Romney Moseley, a line uttered in 1992 continues to echo in my memory these 34 years later: “They will turn on you and utterly destroy you!” was his depiction of the potential of a parish congregation’s power and influence over a clergy with whom they came into conflict. Having been ‘through’ such encounters, and having intermittently yet frequently pondered, mused and reflected on the circumstances of many of such broken relationships, not only of my own but also of others, I am tentatively dancing with the option of letting some of those reflections free from my finger tips.

It is not that either my experience or my reflections have anything new to tell about parish ministry. Nor that anyone either in seminary curriculum planning or ecclesial hierarchy might read or reflect on anything they might read in this space. And, perhaps there is an element of ‘letting go’ of some of the frustrations and fulminations that have charged various moments in those dozen years.

The way that sanctity, sacredness and church piety seems to have found its way into the latter part of the twentieth century in North America, at least, seems to have been carried in on the tongues, throats and larynxes of whisperers. Small, slow steps, in liturgy, heavy and ornate robes, and what one assumes other consider to be ‘reverence’ is evidence in the degree of scrupulosity and careful monitoring of any person, usually a woman, who consents to serve on the Altar Guild where one of the roles is the folding of linen for use in the Eucharist. Newcomers frequently run afoul of ‘tradition’ if they omit a step, fold in a different order from the ‘established’ and learn quickly that this activity warrants special discipline.

Pursuit of perfection, evident also in the often-rehearse scriptural readings by lay men and women, as another of the symbols of a conventionally supported ‘sanctuarial ethos’ that is, one guesses, intended to ‘please God’. I was once openly and publicly criticized by a warden for placing a water bottle, not on the altar, but on the table behind the altar. I was apparently deviating from what was considered ‘proper protocol’ in liturgical manuals I had never read or even heard about. Indeed, I believe the criticism was less about proper protocol than about that warden’s total need for absolute control of the situation. And whether that warden had already felt the heat of the anger of criticism from others about other matters or not, I am not aware.

Early on, in those dozen years, while on the phone with a diocesan officer, I casually, yet pointedly commented, “Rod, I am becoming convinced that the church is operating on a mandated ‘politically correct’ modus operandi! And that that also sums up both politics and its theology! His response, “I completely agree with that!”

Public performances, whether by clergy, laity, choir, organist or care-taker, however, that put ‘show’ before substance seem to contradict the essence of the Christian faith. In street talk, what kind of God is or ever would be, impressed, or need to be impressed by ‘His’ people demonstrating  inauthenticity, ‘showing-off’ I you like, as an integral part of their relationship with God. Of course, one thinks of ‘hosting’ and ‘putting on a best face’ of the family when entertaining guests or family. Perhaps my ‘take’ in about the degree to which many go ,,,,while at the same time, the other side of this ‘extreme’ behaviour is silent, surret

Public performances, whether by clergy, laity, choir, organist or care-taker, however, that put ‘show’ before substance seem to contradict the essence of the Christian faith. In street talk, what kind of God is or ever would be, impressed, or need to be impressed by ‘His’ people demonstrating inauthenticity, ‘showing-off’ if you like, as an integral part of their relationship with God. Of course, one thinks of ‘hosting’ and ‘putting on a best face’ of the family when entertaining guests or family. Perhaps my ‘take’ in about the degree to which many go ,,,,while at the same time, the other side of this ‘extreme’ behaviour is silent, surreptitious gossip about the rumours that might be attached to pew colleagues.

Churches, by their very nature, attempt to be welcoming, for a variety of reasons. Of course, they welcome others who might be genuinely interested in learning more about what goes on there, learning more about God and perhaps even seeking to connect with a community of people they might trust in a new city or town. All very relevant, significant and realistic possibilities. Lay training for those interested in ‘welcoming’ people upon their entry into narthex or porch of the building is often offered as a way to enhance the experience of someone’s first visit. Occasionally, too, others will extend a hand of welcome to a new face. All well and good.

How can or does one even hope to ‘curtail, limit, discourage, or even dissuade’ the gossip that slithers from pew to pew, before, during and after formal worship services. If one calls it out, even privately, doubtless there will be a strong push-back.

Image this scenario: ‘Do you know what he said to me? as I shook his hand after the service this morning. He gently reminded me of my ‘tendency to gossip’ and I told him I was genuinely interested in some of the things others are going through; I thought that was part of being a member here.”

Or this scenario: “I left that church because I heard in that sermon words from a conversation that others in the parish had had earlier in the week, ….no name mentioned. I am not going to support even anonymous use of real conversations as part of a clergy’s sermon in any church I attend.”

The smaller the parish, the larger the degree of control and influence that a small group of people, families that have been attending and supporting during the most difficult times in the parish history, inject into the running of the church. New people to the community are deeply resented, if they usurp an ‘original’ family member’s conviction to serve in leadership. The ‘old’ (as an legacy membership) consider it their right to continue to decide who serves, and they almost act as if they have the first right of refusal when recommendations of appointments are made.

It is not that any of this ‘human behaviour’ is so exceptional; it is just that, if one (as clergy) attempts to confront it, as part of a ministry, one runs a serious risk of alienating, offending, and ultimately putting one’s job in jeopardy.

After conducting a service for a visiting ‘search committee for a new clergy’ and after being formally and informally interviewed by the committee for three or four hours on the Saturday evening prior to the service, and after the committed had reported favourably back to the rest of the church council on their recommendation of appointment, one prominent member of the wider council sought a private interview with the candidate at which he declared,

“I am a friend of the bishop and I am proud that I was highly instrumental in sending the last priest on his way out of our church because he was not spiritual enough, and you are not spiritual enough as well,” I felt the hairs on my neck bristle.

Instantly, I felt both competitive and aggressive….probably too intense for my own good. The words I recall uttering, almost as if I had neither heard nor taken seriously his ‘bishop-connection,’ were, as close as I can recall:

“And where would you like to be in your own spiritual life over the next three years?”….It was as if I had slapped his forehead with a fish. Instantly he charged the subject, as if he too had neither heard nor paid attention to my rejoinder.

Intensity of presentation has the obvious potential of putting people off, especially in an institution that prides itself on ‘calm, deliberate, mature, reasonable and moderate’ methodology and theology. Intensity also has the potential to cut through the hypocrisy, both of the individual variety and of the institutional variety. Indeed, as hypocrisy is a ubiquitous trait, brought into every single room where people meet, as one clergy colleague put it, “Church is the best place for hypocrits to be!” The inference is that in the church they might become conscious of their hypocrisy and begin to reflect on its toxicity.

The quasi-military, hierarchical, organizational structure lies at the foundation of at least some mainline protestant churches. One can only guess that such a hierarchy brings with it a degree of control and management ease that offers readily accessible opportunities to ‘depose’ those it considers ‘not spiritual enough’ for example, or nor compliant with the local, familial traditions and connections to a parish, or even those whose theology is considered ‘heretical’.

Hearing the phone message intone words like, “You are the anti-Christ and you must be driven out of the church immediately!” after barely a few months serving as recently ordained deacon, I wondered how to proceed. I knew that the warden and his legacy friends had scheduled the showing of a video produced by some fundamentalist group in Waco, Texas, and insisted on showing it ‘Tuesday of this week’ was the way I was accosted about it. I firmly rejected that proposition, at least until I had had an opportunity to view the video and make my own conclusions. The warden then informed me that my ‘sermons were heretical’ ( I had referred to writers like Scott Peck, Herb O’Driscoll and Romney Moseley)….and that I must leave the parish immediately. This conversation took place shortly after a Sunday service in which I had subverted the formal announcement of the video showing. I again firmly responded, “I am not going anywhere!”

In the week following that encounter, I wrote and delivered a letter to that warden’s place of business, that his services as warden were no longer needed.

Sadly, after another few months, I heard, from a fifteen-year-old while having lunch at McDonalds with him and his mother, who had slipped out to the washroom, this question, “Do you know why the last priest left?” To which I answered in the negative.

“Well, he shot a dog and turned the gun on the owner!” were the words that came from the young man. How true, even without context, those words were, has never been determined by me or communicated to me by anyone who would have known the full context.

Nevertheless, the level of sensitive attention paid to liturgical and fiscal matters, in my experience in the church far exceeds the attention paid to the ‘story’ of a parish, the details of conflicts that remain unresolved, and even unaddressed. As a parallel, two weeks of ‘holy hand-waving’ as to how to perform a eucharist were mandated as part of the formation for ministry, without a single word, lecture, workshop or seminar or certainly not a course in parish conflict resolution being uttered.

The deployment of authority, power, and hierarchical decision-making, without appeal, seems to have embedded itself into at least the Anglican/Episopalian churches, if not in others. And, any notion of the degree of difficulty that one might be having in the service of especially an already troubled parish or mission is, or at least has seemed to be, totally irrelevant to the persons whose title included responsibility for the operation of those troubled churches.

I have no idea how many clergy have faced similar gordion knots in parishes, without adequate support….doubtless there are others.

Like any human organization, churches have their dark sides; a public presentation that ignores or denies the institutional Shadow seems also to avoid a critical and essential part of their own collective unconscious truth.