Episcopal Church Foundation Vestry Papers - for leading congregations

It’s an all-American, boot-strappin’ response to tough times: We’re fine. We’re over it. We’ve moved on. 

Even when, especially when, the wounds are still there, just covered with a light scab for disguise.

The past three years have been tough for our congregation . Their rector of nearly three decades retired. For many in the congregation, he was the only ordained leader they had experienced, conducting their confirmations, marriages, and baptisms of their children. Whether or not he was universally beloved during his tenure, at the time of retirement, he was elevated to saint.  

Then an interim came to the congregation. Sadly he was fighting a host of demons and 13 months later, he shot himself in the head. 

The losses came too fast, mourning an old friend and pastor, then bewilderment at the suicide of a priest. 

For the next year, the congregation hunkered down, pulled together, and weathered the storm. They called my husband as priest a little more than a year ago. And if you asked folks how they were doing, the answer was nearly always the same: We’re fine. We’re over it. We’ve moved on. 

For the past two weeks – with one more session this Thursday, a diocesan leadership team has met with the whole congregation. Comprised of lay and ordained volunteers from across the diocese, the leadership team is working with the congregation to map its future. But first they had to mine the past. 

Divided into eight groups, the 70 or so representatives of the congregation talked for an hour, sharing their hurts and triumphs from that difficult period. At the end of the gathering, all of the groups reported out. The similarities were remarkable. 

Every group acknowledged the pain of both transitions. They were able to name their anger and guilt and hurt. But they were also able to celebrate some of the positive outcomes: a sense of shared commitment to the church and each other, a newfound appreciation for the strength of lay leadership. 

I didn’t go through this difficult time with this congregation. But it felt like the meeting offered a final coda to this painful stretch. Instead of having to put their best face forward, they could acknowledge how hard it was – and how far they’ve come. They could miss the familiarity of their longtime rector without it being an indictment of their new priest. They could name the deep pain caused by the suicide without feeling like they were talking ill of the dead. 

I’m not sure these conversations could have happened any sooner. Sometimes time and space offers a buffer for healing. But I also don’t think they could have waited much longer. 
Pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps works fine in a capitalist economy, but in the space of our churches, we need grace and forgiveness, time to share, and a place to heal.